
Digitized by the Internet Arciniv^ '^ 



^'' J>^ .^'"^ % in 2011 with funding from .^"^ o^--. 



^^ TIM^ Library of Congres^--> ;«^^^;. 






^, 




^^ 



A' 



.V 






-I-- 




o 

o 















'^ 



^ htlp™ww/archiV^org/d^l^l^nce^ ^ 






-^ 



.^ 



^^. 



O N V 



GLANCES ON THE WING 



Foreign Lands 



JaME3 ^. ]4oYT. 



PRINTED 




WOM MjEJLATIYJES ANjD WMI1ENJD8} 



K . ^ 

'^i 1 ' 



IpKtal ^tqutst. 



CLEVELAND: 

PRESS OF FAIRBANKS, BENEDICT & CO., HERALD OFFICE 



1872. 



lOaJ^ 



My POUNTRY ! 

'Where'er I roam — whatever realms to see — 
My heart, untraveled, fondly turns to thee ! " 

Goldsmith^ s Traveler. 



EXPLANATORY. 



Tn the summer of 1871 I was induced, quite unexpectedly, to 
make a trip abroad. 

I went to accompany my son — Rev. Wayland Hoyt, pastor of 
Strong Place Baptist Church, in Brooklyn, New York. 

We were limited to three months' leave of absence, including 
the voyages. The necessity for this limit was felt by my son to 
arise from his duties to his Church, which had tendered to him 
the vacation from exhausting labors, and had accompanied the 
offer with generous provision for the journey. I felt, also, that 
my business and family, left somewhat abruptly — consenting, 
however, to go, upon their earnest solicitation — required my early 
return. 

We did not suppose that so brief an opportunity would give to 
either of us adequate knowledge of foreign lands. We expected, 
merely, that our impressions — which in so large a field cculd only 
be rapid and fleeting — would yet give locality and definiteness to 
ideas derived from life-long reading. 

But these are benefits entirely personal. Then why — it may 
occur to some — dignify notes of mere glances at new scenes, 
taken while flitting on the wing, by printing them? The ques- 
tion is pertinent. I can only^say that, while I would not have 
consented to their publication, I have yielded to requests of my 



Explanatory. 

family and friends that they be printed, as a souvenir for those 
directly connected with the journey, and a slight offering, grate- 
ful at least to the giver, to a larger circle of esteemed acquaint- 
ances, who may accept kindliness of intention as some atone- 
ment for deficiencies in the scope and substance of the matter 
presented. 

Still there may be one merit in sketches necessarily so inade- 
quate. They were taken on the instant of their impression. New 
scenes and experiences were portrayed in the freshness of their 
first eflfect; and it may be that the life-coloring thus dashed on 
the pictures may reward attention to what otherwise would be 
commonplace. 

As these notes were written for my own family, and intended 
to be stimulants to the curiosity of my children, and incitements 
to their broader reading, personal allusions arose naturally. For 
the larger, yet limited circle of friends who may see them, I have 
deemed these family allusions to be still in place and excusable. 

JAMES M. HOYT. 
Cleveland, February 11, 1873. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

New York to QtjEENSTOWN. — Parade of Orangemen and Riots 
in New York as we sailed. Out of Sight of Land. Depth and 
Color of the Sea. Reading. Sea-Sickness. Gulf Stream. Test- 
ing Temperature of the Water by Thermometer. The Great 
Banks. Fog. Number on Board. Remarkable Rescue of the 
Crew of a Sinking Vessel by our Captain, on a former Trip. 
Religious Services at Sea. New Acquaintances made. Conver- 
sations. Phosphorescence of the Sea. Great Heat in Fire- 
Room — a Stoker prostrated by it. The Ocean, the Great Cloud 
Fountain. Steamer described. A Compound Engine — both High 
and Low Pressure. Coal burned. Ship's Log. Number of Revo- 
lutions of Screw from New York to Liverpool. Birds at Sea. 
Approaching Irish Coast 9 — 31 



CHAPTER II. 

QUEENSTOWN TO DUBLIN. — Irish Coast. Queenstown Harbor. 
Scenery. Verdure. River Lee. Cork. Irish Jaunting Car. 
Tim O'DriscoU. Blarney Castle. Ride to Killarney. Wordy 
Tustle with Infidel. Royal Victoria Hotel. Killarney. First 
Breakfast Abroad. The Lakes. Mist-Covered Mountains. 
Islands. Grounds. Ride to Muck Ross Chapel. Service — 
Preacher and Sermon. Church-Yard. Muck Ross Abbe3^ 
Grand Trees. Ivy-Covered Ruins. Description of the Abbey. 
Killarney Village Church — Afternoon Service. Evening Service in 
Mission Chapel — The Preacher. Gap Dunloe. Purple Mountain. 
Cascades. Delightful Echo. Pony-Riding. Boat-Ride on the 
Lakes. Rain and Sunshine. Merry Party. Enjoyment of Wild 
Scenery. Tree Arbutus. Innisfallen Island. Old Ruin. Rural 
Loveliness. Boat-Ride to Ross Castle. Droll Omnibus Driver. 
Beggars in Ireland. Ride by Rail to Dublin 23 — 35 



Contends, 



CHAPTER III. 



Dublin to London, — Dublin. Trinity College — Goldsmith- 
Burke— Library— Buildings— Old Portraits — Students. Irish 
Parliament House — Tapestry Pictures. Cathedral — Swift— 
Whately — Trench — Royal Chapel. Phoenix Park — Zoological 
Gardens — Wellington Monument. Over Channel to Holyhead. 
Steamer -Swiftness— Oscillating Cylinders. Rail to Menai Bridge. 
"Wonderful Suspension Bridge. Britannia Tubular Bridge- 
Description. Welsh Mountains. Llanberis. Ascent of Snow- 
don— Views— Slate Quarries. Ride to Bettws-y-coed — Pass of 
Llanberis— Lovely Valleys — Swallow Falls. Conway Castle. 
Chester, England — City — Old Roman Wall. Cathedral— Battle 
Flags — Grotesque and Indecent Ornaments. London 36 — 45 



CHAPTER IV. 

London. — First View of the Great City. Hansom Cabs. Sermon 
in Westminster Abbey. Thames. Westminster Bridge. Fre- 
quent Rain. Spurgeon's Tabernacle — Service there — Spurgeon's 
Appearance — Manner — Outline of his Sermon — Lord's Supper — 
Large Attendance — Number of Membership — Service contrasted 
with that in Westminster Abbey. Getting Admission into Parlia- 
ment 46— 5T 



CHAPTER V. 

London.— St. Paul's Cathedral — Dome — Golden Walk — Extended 
Views of London — Crypt — Sarcophagus of Wellington — Funeral 
Car — Adulation of Rank — Daily Service — Intoning — Tablet to 
Wren — Sidney Smith's Pun — Death of Dean Mansell — Dimen- 
sions of Cathedral. Zoological Gardens — Rare Birds — Animals. 
Twickenham. Pope's Villa. Primrose Hill. Bushy Park. 
Hampton Court Palace — State Apartments — Pictures — Vast 
Grape Vine. House of Lords — Droll Ceremonial — Difficulties 
of Admission. Tower of London — Extent — Associations — Old 
Armor — Knights in Mail — Crown Jewels 58—68 



Contents. 



CHAPTER VI. 



London. — Crystal Palace, Sydenham — Egyptian, Assyrian, Arabic, 
Grecian, Roman and Moorish Halls — Statues — Paintings — 
Grounds — Fountains — Trees — Preadamite Scenery and Animals — 
Crowds — Fine Band — Artesian Well — Exquisite Landscapes. 
St. Paul's — Memorial Sermon by Canon Liddon on Dean Mansell. 
Old Bailey. Smithfield. Martyrs. St. Bartholomew's. St. Giles' 
Church — Milton's Tomb — Milton's House. Grub Street. Bunhill 
Fields. Wesley's Chapel, House and Grave. Middle and Inner 
Temple. Lincoln's Inn. Goldsmith's Grave. House of Com- 
mons. South Kensington Museum 69 — 78 



CHAPTER VII. 

Salisbury to Brighton.— London to Salisbury. Three Swans- 
One of Dickens' Inns. Pemberton. George Herbert's Chapel, 
House and Lawn — River Avon — Picture of Salisbury Spire framed 
in Trees — Beautiful Shrubbery. Wilton Hall — Earl of Pem- 
broke — Vast Wealth. Law of Primogeniture. Taxes on Parks 
and Hunting Forests. Peers, as LawrMakers, tax Peers. Chalk 
Downs. Stonehenge — Supposed Origin. Salisbury Cathedral — 
Foundation of Tower — Grounds — Age and Wonderful Beauty of 
the Pile. Crown Prince of Prussia and Wife. Brighton. Char- 
lotte Bronte. Grand Hotel. Star Views. English Bathing. 
F. W. Robertson ' 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Brighton to London. — Ride on Coach-Top — Amateur Stage- 
Drivers — Professional Whips — Fine Horses — Clever Scotch Guard. 
English Scenery — Neglected Hedges and Lands. Passengers 
Outside — Average Englishmen — Smoking — Drinking — Current 
Politics. London. International Exhibition. Prince Albert 
Memorial. Kew Gardens — Palm House — Tropical Forest— Great 
Heat. Spurgeon — Sermon. National Scotch Church — Dr. Gum- 
ming — His Preaching 90 — 97 



Contents. 



CHAPTER IX. 

London and Oxford.— Chalk Region. Elms in English Land- 
scapes. The Thames above London. Hounslow. Reading. 
Oxford. Colleges and Halls — Great Bell — Pusey — Portraits — 
Beauty of Grounds — Deer in Park — Addison's Walk— Noted 
Graduates. Martyrs' Memorial. London. The Commons — 
Horse-Shed for Members— Great Debate on the Royal Warrant in 
abolishing Purchase— Fawcett—Harcourt— Gladstone. Westmin- 
ster Hall — Statues. Statues in Parliament Houses. Statue of 
Oliver Cromwell 98-107 



CHAPTER X. 

London and Cambridge.— Westminster Abbey. The British 
Museum — Vast Extent and Variety — Rossetta Stone — Terra Cotta 
Tablets Six Centuries Before Christ — Typographical Curiosities — 
Alexandrine Manuscript — Old Copies of Shakespeare — Steamboat 
Before Watt. Cheap Clothing. Cambridge. Red Lion. The 
Bull, or Commercial versus Family Hotel. Roof-Raisers. Clean- 
liness of Environs of London, Christ Church School, London — 
Dress of Boys. Colleges in Cambridge— Officials. King's College 
Chapel. Trinity College — Sir Isaac Newton — Library — Statues — 
Relics. Milton. Robert Hall 108-117 



CHAPTER XI. 

EliY TO Edinburgh.— Ely Cathedral — In the Fens — Age, Style 
and Great Beauty — Lady Chapel — Costly Adornments — Great 
Norman Tower. Peterborough Cathedral — Its Staff. York. 
Ancient Hotel. The City. Old Wall. Roman Associations. 
St. Mary's Abbey— Blind Asylum— Beautiful Crown Land. York 
Minster — Service— Sermon— Form. Baptist Chapel and Preacher. 
Trouble at the Black Swan Hotel. Museum. Magnificent View 
from Cathedral Tower. Oscillation of Rail Cars. Berwick-on- 
Tweed. Scotland. Edinburgh 118-127 



Contents. 



CHAPTER XII. 

Edinburgh. — Picturesque Surroundings. Statues. Scott's Monu- 
ment. Calton Hill. Burns' Monument. Autograph Letters and 
Souvenirs of Burns, Queen's Drive. Salisburjr Craigs. Arthur's 
Seat. Magnificent Views — Frith — German Ocean — Lothians — 
Pentland Hills — Dudingston Loch — Craigmillar Castle. Cove- 
nanters' Caverns. Walter Scott's Favorite Walk. Jeanie Deans' 
Cottage — Girls on Horseback in the Drive — The Ranger and his 
Scotch Wife — Their Library. Holyrood Palace — Queen Mary's 
Apartments — Rizzio's Death — Darnley's Death — Bothwell — 
John Knox. Canongate Street — Its Closes — Ancient Splendor — 
Modern Squalor — Tolbooth — John Knox's House — Old Parlia- 
ment House — Court Room where Sir Walter Scott was Clerk. 
St. Giles' Church — King James and Knox. Chalmers' House — 
The Grange — His Grave. Hugh Miller's Grave — Bore Stone — 
Inscription. Flodden Field. 128-143 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Scotland. — A Free Church Scotchman. Melrose Abbey — Grave of 
Sir David Brewster. Eilden Hills. Abbotsford — River Tweed — 
Valley — Grounds — Gardens — -Roman Medallions — The Study — 
Librarj^ — Drawing Room — Souvenirs — Old Armor. Dryburgh 
Abbey — Grave of Scott — -Yew Tree old as the Ruin. Edinburgh. 
Steam Omnibus. Antiquarian Museum. Castle — Room in which 
King James was born. James' Court. Home of Boswell. Mag- 
dalen Chapel. Early Home of Sir Walter Scott. Inauguration 
of '' Edinburgh Review." Gray Friars' Church — Covenanters. 
Martyrs' Prison Yard — Graves of Robertson, Ramsay, Tj'tler, 
and Black. Fidelity of a Dog. 144-153 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Scotland.— Linlithgow. Falkirk. Stirling. Gray Friars' Church- 
Churchyard — Ladies' Rock. Vale of the Tournament. Reforma- 
tion. Monuments — Scotland's Maiden Martyr. Views from the 
Ladies' Rock — Castle Rock — Abbey Craig — Wallace Monument— 
Ochil Hills — Saline Hills — Campsie Hills— Carse of Stirling— 



Contenf.s. 



CHAPTER XIV— Continued. 

Field of Bannockburn— The Battle— Gillies Hill— Vale of Men- 
teith — Ben Lomond — Grampian Hills. The Castle — Palace. 
Parliament House— Death of Douglass. Queen Mary's Lookout. 
Callandar. Stage Ride to the Trossacks— Rain. Loch Katrine. 
Ellen's Isle. Benvenue. Glen Arklet, Inversnaid. Loch 
Lomond— Scenery. Ben Lomond. Balloch Pier. Glasgow 154-163 

CHAPTER XV. 

Glasgow.— The Cathedral— Presbyterian Service— Beauty of Inte- 
rior. Free Church — Precentor — Admirable Sermon by a Mr. 
Reith — Synopsis — Subtle Spiritual Insight. Open Air Preaching.*^ 
Closes. Crowds in the Street. Tron Church — Chalmer's Astro- 
nomical Sermons. Ship Yards on the Clyde. Iron Steamers.. 163-170 



CHAPTER XVI. 

English Lakes and England. — Keswick, Lake Derwentwater. 
Southey. Crystal Haze. Scenery. Coach Ride to Windermere. 
Rydal Water. Rydal Church. Wordsworth's Cottage. Nab Scar. 
Rydal Knob. Scene of Home Picture by Hart. Fox How — Thos. 
Arnold — -Matthew Arnold. Ambleside. Preston. Black Country. 
Birmingham. Kenilworth. Warwick Castle — Portraits — Armor — 
Curiosities. Great Cedars. Warwick Vase. Rich Landscape. 
Stratford-on-Avon. Shakespeare's Birthplace. Trinity Church — 
Grave — Monument. Shottery. Ann Hathaway. 171-184 

CHAPTER XVII. 

London to Heidelberg.— Dover. Crossing Channel. Calais. 
France. Belgium. Brussels. Cathedral. Sabbath Service. High 
Mass. Liege. Cologne. Cathedral. Going up the Rhine. View 
leaving Cologne. Old Town House. Roman Associations. Bonn. 
Seven Mountains. Beautiful Homes on River. Heights. Ruined 
Castles. Hanging Vineyards. Railroad Tunnels. Bingen. By 
Rail to Heidelberg. Changing Cars. Difficulties of Speech. 
Feather Bed-Coverings. River Neckar. The Castle — Its Beauty. 
Meeting Friends 185-196 



Contents. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Baden Baden to the Alps.— Baden Baden. Beautiful Gardens- 
Music— Evening Crowds in Open Air. Conversazione— Gambling 
Tables — Players — Great Demoralization. Strasbourg. Fortifica- 
tions. Filth. Cathedral — Astronomical Clock. Switzerland. 
Basle. Fish Market. Miinster — Ancient Council Room. Cur- 
rent Ferry. The Alps 197-307 



CHAPTER XIX. 

SwiTZERIiAND AND THE AlPS. — First View of Snow-Covered 
Mountains. Lucerne. The Lake. Reflections at Night. Zurich. 
Hotel Baur au Lac — Beautiful Garden — Lake Views — Crystal 
Water, Sabbath Service. Gross Miinster — Statue of Charle- 
magne — Afternoon Service — Blind Precentor and Organist — Pulpit 
in which Zwingle preached. House where Zwingle lived. Gran- 
deur of Scenery around Zurich See 208-316 



CHAPTER XX. 

Switzerland and the Alps. -Lucerne. Lion of Lucerne. 
Ride to Brienz — The Roads. Sarnen. Ancient Village Fountain. 
Hanging Mountain Pastures. Lungern. Goats from the Moun- 
tains. Night Ride over the Pass. Thunder Storm in the High 
Alps. Brienz. Giesbach. Interlaken. Jungfrau. Lake Thun. 
Bern. Lausanne. Geneva. Martigny. Martigny le Bourg. Over 
the Col de Balme. Summit of Col de la Forclaz. Pass of Tete 
Noire. Glacier du Trient. Narrow Escapes. First View of 
Mont Blanc. Aiguille Argentiere. Vale of Chamounix 317-239 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Switzerland and the Alps.— Mont Blanc— Deceptive Impres- 
sions as to its Height, as seen from its Base. Montanvert — Num- 
bers there — Exciting Incident and Alarm. Mer de Glace — The 
Grinding of the Glacier — The Debris — Daily Movement of the 
Ice. Chasms— Moraines. Mauvais Pas. Hanging Patches of 
Grass. Swiss Girl carrying Hay down the Mountain. Our 



Contents. 



CHAPTER XXI— Continued. 

Descent. Aiguille du Dru. On the Diligence for Geneva. 
Glacier des Bossons. View described by Coleridge, Grands 
Mulets. Wild Gorge of Chamounix. Sallanches. Final View of 
Mont Blanc— Its Surpassing Grandeur. Cascade of Arpenaz. 
Villages. Goitre. Geneva.. 330-338 



CHAPTER XXIT. 

Geneva to Paris.— Geneva. Cathedral where Calvin preached— 
Service. Calvin's House. Scotch Church. Watch-Making. 
Hotel de Ville. Night Train through France. Chalk. Pollards. 
Husbandry. Paris. Versailles. Le Grand Trianon — Josephine. 
Le Petite Trianon — Marie Antoinette. State Coaches. Soldiers. 
The Palace — Grounds — Fountains — Statues. Ruins in Paris. 
Place de la Concorde. Paris at Night. Champs Elysees — 
Demoralization. Beauty of Buildings. Tuilleries — Louvre — 
Ruins. Galleries of Statuary — Paintings. Notre Dame. Morgue. 
Arc de Triomphe. Start for Home 339-249 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Liverpool to New York. — Embarking for Home. Steamer 
Java — Passengers. Queenstown. Bishop of Litchfield. William 
H. Seward — Conversation with him — Interesting Reference 
to Surrender of Mason and Slidell. Loss of a Danish Brig. 
Tyndall's " Hours of Exercise in the Alps." Favorable Passage. 
Arrival in New York 350-261 



CHAPTEE I. 



FEOM NEW YOBK TO QUEEIs^STOWX 



Parade of Orangemen and Riots in New York as we sailed. Out of 
Sight of Land. Depth and Color of the Sea. Reading. Sea- 
Sickness. Gulf Stream. Testing Temperature of the Water 
by Thermometer. The Great Banks. Fog. Number on Board. 
Remarkable Rescue of the Crew of a Sinking Vessel by our 
Captain, on a Former Trip. Religious Services at Sea. New 
Acquaintances made. Conversations. Phosphorescence of 
the Sea. Great Heat in Fire Room— a Stoker prostrated by it. 
The Ocean, the great Cloud Fountain. Steamer described. 
A Compound Engine— both High and Low Pressure. Coal 
burned. Ship's Log. Number of Revolutions of Screw from 
New York to Liverpool. Birds at Sea. Approaching Irish 
Coast. 

Jtdy 12, 1871. — The day for sailing. Intensely 
hot, and damp from recent copious rains. About 
12 M. went on board the steamer "Wyoming/' of the 
Williams & Guion line — Captain Whinneray. Wrote 
home before leaving the harbor. At a few minutes 
past 2 P. M. started on the voyage. Just as we left 
New York an immense column of smoke arose from 
a location in the city near Hudson Eiver, occasioned, 
doubtless, by a large petroleum fire. We watched it 
intently, as there was great excitement in the city 
as we left, relative to the parade this day by the 

2 



10 Xew York to Qtieenstoiv7i, 

Orangemen, and rumors of riots. A gentleman had 
brought on board a newspaper extra, with an account 
of riots in various localities. W is much exer- 
cised with anxiety. Trust the disturbances will be 
(quelled without great violence. Were soon dow^n the 
harbor and out through the Narrows. Gradually we 
neared Sandy Hook, and the last land we saw was 
toward evening — the lighthouse on Fire Island. As 
the evening drew on Venus came out brilliantly, and 
her location enabled me at once to put tbe ship 
around with the right bearings in my mind, so that 
now I am able to realize that our course is east. 

July 13. — Glorious day. Some roll on the wide, 
wide sea, out of sight of land. Not sea-sick as yet, 
but the roll and the bad smells of the ship are some- 
times unpleasantly suggestive. See frequent patches 
of medusae or jelly fish on the surface. Had a pretty 
good night, though our state-room is close. 

Jidy llf. — Another perfect day. Sea smooth, and 
temperature delightful; no sea-sickness yet, though 
the steady roll of old Ocean keeps one constantly in 
mind of internal commotion. HoAvever, am doinsf 
bravely as yet. Saw many porpoises yesterday. Passed 
a steamer of the German line, wdth her decks swarm- 
ing with emigrants. W seems more inclined 

to sickness, than I. Our Captain says that we are 
now in water at least two miles deep. The hue 



Neiu York to Qtieenstown. 11 

of the sea is beautiful — a deep, indigo blue, and 
the water seems purity itself. There are occasional 
patches of sea-weed afloat, perhaps brought up from 
the far South on the Gulf Stream. 

Afternoon. — Quite a fresh breeze and some white 
caps; but we keep steadily on our course with but 
little motion. Air very balmy. Am reading with 
great interest Professor Hoppin's '^ Old England." 
Am much pleased with its healthful, breezy, manly 
spirit. It reminds me of Hugh Miller's ^^ First 
Impressions of England and its People." Have 
always fancied that I should enjoy reading at sea, 
and thus far I quite realize the fancy. In afternoon 
later, the wind freshened and quite a sea rose. 

July 15. — Had a pretty good night, though there 

was more motion. But this morning while W 

was dressing he had to succumb. Afterward, when I 
got up, I did likewise. We both got on deck and did 
not venture down to breakfast. Sea quite rough, but 
air very balmy. We must be in the Gulf Stream. 
Am making fine progress in reading Hoppin's " Old 
England." An admirable preparative for an approach 
to the shores of our old Fatherland — with all the 
faults of the English, still the home of the brave and 
the free. The steamer "Harmonia," of the German 
line, passed us about 2 P. M., bound for ^ew York. 
She was running near our course, and loaded with 
emigrants — her decks literally swarming with them 



12 New York to Queenstoiun. 

Eveiy two hours the water of the ocean is tested by 
the thermometer, a bucketful being drawn up for 
that purpose. This morning the water was 72° 
Fahrenheit. Doubtless we are in the Gulf Stream. 
This afternoon it was 58°. On the Banks, the water 
is tested every half hour. If the temperature sinks 
suddenly, it is known that ice is near. Eemark- 
able, that the movements of our steamer should be 
guided by the little thermometer. This evening we 
are in the fog, nearing the Great Banks, and the fog 
whistle is now blown at sliort intervals. 

Sunday, July 16. — Am feeling very well this morn- 
ing. Slept well and enjoyed breakfast. Cooler, but 
not cold. We are now on the Banks of Newfound- 
land, in water about two hundred feet deep. Have 
seen no fishing vessels as yet. The fog and mist are 
constant; and at frequent intervals the steam whistle 
proclaims our presence for a mile around on the soli- 
tary waters. AVind fresh and favorable; making line 
progress. Including the crew, (about one hundred 
and twenty,) and the steerage passengers, and about 
eighty cabin passengers, there are, all told, about four 
hundred souls on board. Also one Newfoundland 
dog, which is a great pet. The Captain, a trip or 
two back, rescued seven men from a sinking vessel, 
which would have gone down in about six hours 
longer. They had not seen a sail for six days. The 
C'aptain says that by some means, he knew not why, 



XeiD York to QueensUnvn. IS 

lie went about fifteen miles south of his usual course, 
and so he came to their rescue — a particular Proyi- 
clence. Doubtless, in their extremity, there was pre- 
yailing prayer on board. The dog was taken from 
the yessel and giyen to the Captain. 

In the forenoon, quiet arrangements were made for 
religious seryices in the cabin, and soon the ship's 
bells began to call to prayer aud praise. About eighty 
assembled, including many of the crew. The Epis- 
copal seryice was read by Bishop Littlejohn. of Long 
Island, assisted by a clergyman from Illinois, and 
followed by a few timely extempore remarks by the 
Bishop, heartily recognizing our dependence upon 
God. The whole scene was pleasing, healthful, 
reyerent, grateful to the heart — praise and prayer 
ascending to God in the midst of the great ocean, a 
thousand miles from land, while the winds and 
wayes sweep on in their wild solitude. At 12 o'clock 
all hands are piped on deck and the ship's boats are 
manned by their seyeral officers and men, according 
to the uniform usage on Sabbath, to insure a constant 
readiness for any emergency. Touching allusion was 
made by the Bishop to the dear friends at home who 
are now thinking of and praying for us, as we think 
of and pray for them here. 

July 17. — Quite a rough night. Ship rolled a good 
deal. Did not sleep as well. This morning wind 
gone down, and prospect of a still day. Hope the fog 



IJf. Neio York to Queendowii. 

will clear up to-day. We are nearly two hundred 
miles east of the Great Banks. The water on the 
Banks was once 44°, only 12° above freezing, while 
before it was at one time, when in the Gulf Stream, 
76°. We shall this day probably pass the half-way 
line between America and England. What a vast 
expanse is this Atlantic Ocean ! Five weary days 
and nights we have been steadily steaming at from 
eleven to thirteen knots an hour, to reach the half- 
way point. 

About noon finished readiug Hoppin's '' Old Eng- 
land." In the evening had an interesting conversation, 

sitting on deck beneath the stars, with a Mr. B , 

an artist, who has been much abroad. He is tinctured 
with the prevailing tendencies to materialism, and 
unsettled in his faith. He listened intently as we 
talked, and evidently felt that some of my suggestions 
were not flippant or superficial. I have made also a 

delightful acquaintance with a Mr. L , of Chicago, 

pastor of a Presbyterian Church — a very intelligent 
and cultured man. We seem to take readily to 
each other. He is a thinker, and is fond of science, 
and has suggested much to me that I shall gladly 
remember. In some realms of thouo-ht he has not 
approached spiritual realities by the methods which 
have deeply interested me, and he seems to value 
some of my definitions. 

In the evening, about nine, the sea w^as gloriously 
phosphorescent. Wherever a wave broke into crested 



New York to Queenstown. 15 

foam there was a gleaming flash, lighting up the ocean 
around like a transient lamp, and in the wake of the 
ship there was a wide river of light. It seemed that, 
w^ere you in it, it would be nearly light enough to 
read. The hue of the light was golden, like moon- 
light. As the waves chased each other trom the stern, 
agitated by the ship's wheel, they glowed and flashed, 
while scattered over them were lustrous little balls of 
gleam, large as marbles, and some big as lamp globes, 
which would shine like the stars in a Roman candle 
and then go out. 

July 18. — Quite pleasant this morning. It rolled 
heavily in the night. Once, a sea poured into a port- 
hole on our side of the ship, and the watchful steAvard 
went into all the state-rooms and closed the port- 
holes. Then how close! It was stifling. At last I 
got up and opened our port-hole, and I went to sleep. 
How blessed and expressive of Divine intelligence 
the adjustment of the pure vital air to the living 
lungs I Enjoyed breakfast this morning. The day is 
charming — no wind, and only the long, resistless roll 
of old Ocean. I am not now made sick by this 
motion, and find the voyage quite enjoyable. A 
gentleman and his young wife are on board, on their 
way to Shanghai, China. They came by way of San 
Francisco, across the continent, and when they reach 
Shanghai will have gone round the world. The tem- 
perature, even in mid-ocean, is now that of July. 



16 Neiv York to Quee^istown. 

Great flecks of fog or mist lie off in the horizon, and 
at intervals we pass through them. It is almost a 
dead calm. Just now, about noon, a poor stoker in 
the fire-room, down in the bottom of the ship, was 
prostrated by the heat. The mercury rises there 
often to 136°, and the Captain had said to me a few 
minutes before, that he presumed now that it was as 
high, as there is no wind to drive fresh air down the 
ventilators. I saw the poor fellow, a strong English- 
man, laid on his back half naked, on the second deck? 
upon a bed extemporized from tarpaulins, with a small 
pillow under his head. He was gasping for breath, 
and, convulsed with sobs, was crying. Poor sufferer! 
Perhaps he wept remembering a wife and dependent 
family at home. I spoke to the ship's surgeon and he 
went to him, but before he came the firemen and 
sailors had been tenderly applying restoratives. How 
little we know, in the enjoyment of our luxuries, 
what sufferings and hazards are endured by multi- 
tudes out of our sight who are delving in mines and 
fire-rooms. But He who sees every sparrow's fall, sees 
them all, and He will supply in His time merciful 
compensations. 

July 19. — Again steadily through a long night our 
good ship has kept on its way, upheld on this vast 
expanse by the Almighty arm. This morning the 
mists still hang all around the horizon. But we must 
remember that the mist is mother of the cloud, and 



I^ew York to Queenstowyi. 17 

that tlie function of the ocean is to be a clone! foun- 
tain, to supply the continents with the necessary rain. 
While the All-Proyider is busy to meet the wants of 
nations, we must be content on His deej), though our 
view be bounded. No j)hosphorescence last night. 

Found Mr. K on board yesterday, of New Orleans, 

an acquaintance of my life-long friend, Thos. Allen 
Clarke. He told me that Mr. Clarke bad spoken 
to him of me. Had a very interesting talk this 
morning with the Bishop. Find him to be highly 
cultured and pleasing, with wide knowledge of men 
and things. 

July 20. — Still steadily on our way. Weather 
misty, and wind fresh. We begin to count the hours 
between us and land; expecting (if the Lord will) to 
land at Queenstown, Ireland, on Saturday morning. 
Last night a party of us went down into tbe engine 
room. The Avind was fresh, so that the heat was not 
oppressive. The machinery is of enormous strength, 
but my view of the motive power in movement did 
not increase my sense of security. So many unto- 
ward accidents might occur on shipboard, of which 
you could not estimate the disastrous effect, that 
manv anxious thouoiits will arise. The o-reat refuo-e, 
however, is in Him who will direct our steps if we 
truly commit our ways unto Him. I think I have 
derived new views of man's helplessness, and of Cod's 
Almighty Providence from this ocean voyage. 



18 New Yorh to QueennUmn. 

12 M. — Raining slightly, and confined to cabin and 
state-room. There is great monotony in this 

"Life on the ocean wave, 
A home on the rolling deep." 

When below, you feel the slight shudder of the reyolv- 
ing wheel, and hear its ceaseless sudge — sudge — 
sudge — a mufHed sound of a resistless rush, as it 
whirls at the stern, sunk below the surface of the 
water. The great business of the passengers is to eat. 
Breakfast at 8 A. M., lunch at 12 M., dinner in full 
course at 4, and tea at 7 P. M. I can dispose of only 
two meals a day — the first and third. When pleasant 
I take a run, in all about a mile, twice a day, on the 
upper deck, which I miss sadly when it is wet. 

I may as well here give a brief description of the 
ship. It is all iron, including the masts and spars. 
The bottom sheathing is about an inch thick, and 
the sides three-quarters of an inch. It is three hun- 
dred and seventy eight feet in length, forty-four in 
breadth, and forty-three and one-half in depth, and 
will carry over four thousand tons of freight. There 
are three stories of berths and decks — the upper, 
with state-rooms for cabin passengers ; and the lower, 
underneath and disconnected, for steerage passengers 
and emigrants. The officers have special quarters. 
The sailors have berths in the forecastle, at the bow. 
There are eight life-boats of wood — all on the upper 
deck, and each covered with canvas and supplied 
with masts, spars, sails, water casks, compass, etc., for 



Neio York to Quee7istown. 19 

instant use in an emergency. They will hold about 
seventy persons each. The engine is compound, both 
high and low pressure, and carries about seventy 
pounds of steam to the inch in the main cylinder. 
At right angles with this and below is a low pressure 
cylinder, some ten feet across, with a large hollow 
piston rod, which carries about nine pounds to the 
square inch. The steam is nsed twice — first in the 
high pressure cylinder, and is discharged from that 
into the low pressure cylinder, and then condensed. 
The w^ater from the condensed steam is used in the 
boilers. The steamer leaves port with her boilers 
filled with fresh water, and by the time she completes 
her voyage the water has become, from the mixture 
of cold sea water in condensing, nearly as salt as sea 
water. 

There seems to be a tendency to substitute high 
pressure for low in ocean steamers, on account of 
the saving in room and economy in cost and running. 
But doubtless this will end in a great increase of 
hazard and the occurrence, possibly, of terrible explo- 
sions after a few years, which may then cause a reac- 
tion and return, on first class passenger boats, to low 
pressure. 

The steamer cost about £75,000, or say, $400,000. 
It would require vastly more to build such a ship in 
America. She burns about sixty tons of bituminous 
coal in twenty-four hours. 



W New York to Queenstoivn. 

Copy of Ship's Log, so /a?'.— Left New York at 3:30 P. M., July 12, 
1871. On 13th July, at Meridian, made 244 miles ; on 14th, at M., 264 
miles ; on loth, at M., 298 miles ; on 16th, at M., 314 miles ; on 17th, at 
M., 320 miles; on 18th, at M., 285 miles; on 19th, at M., 290 miles ; on 
20th, at M., 312 miles ; and on 21st, at M., 290 miles. 

The screw of the "Wyoming" (our steamer) makes 
about seven hundred and fifty thousand reyolutions 
between New York and Liverpool. The engine regis- 
ters its own revolutions, and thus the number can be 
accurately known. 

Jtdif 21. — We expect this to be our last day at sea, 
as we hope to reach Queen stown to-morrow morning. 
It is pleasant this morning; but little sea or wind, 
and mild; clearer than we have had it for a w^ek, 
which will be iavorable in approaching the Irish 
coast. We have seen thus far no icebergs, no whales, 
and, exclusive of the porpoises and a shark early in 
the voyage, no fish. About mid-ocean, one thousand 
miles from land, we saw a flock of large gulls, some 
of them riding on the waves, and some flying. Little 
birds, called "Mother Gary's Chickens," have been 
seen almost constantly, sometimes only two or three 
and sometimes in small flocks. The day is splendid ; 
sunshine and an exhilarating air. At noon saw to 
the windward a steamer bound to New York. She 
lay far off* in the horizon, so that we saw only her 
spars and smoke, her hull being hid by the ocean. 

Must now enclose what is written, for the mail at 
Queenstown; and so I send this to be read bv vou at 



NeiD Yorh to Queenstoimi. 21 

home. Do not read it all at once, but take it by easy 
snatches — say at breakfast,, or dinner — and so follow 
us on our distant way. More anon — much more, if 
the Lord will. 



CHAPTER II. 



FROM QUEElsTSTOWN TO DUBLIN. 



Irish Coast. Queenstown Harbor. Scenery. Verdure. River Lee. 
Cork. Irish Jaunting Car. Tim O'DriscolL Blarey Castle. 
Ride to Killarne}^ Wordy tustle with Infidel. Royal Victoria 
Hotel. Killarney. First breakfast abroad. The Lakes. Mist- 
covered Mountains. Islands. Grounds. Ride to Muck Ross 
Chapel. Service— Preacher and Sermon, Church-yard. Muck 
Ross Abbey. Grand trees. Ivy covered Ruins. Description of 
the Abbey. Killarney Village Church. Afternoon Service. 
Evening Service in Mission Chapel. The Preacher. Gap Dunloe. 
Purple Mountain. Cascades. Delightful Echo. Pony riding. 
Boat-ride on the Lakes. Rain and Sunshine. Merry Party. 
Enjoyment of Wild Scenery. Tree Arbutus. Innisfallen 
Island. Old Ruin. Rural Loveliness. Boat-ride to Ross 
Castle. Droll Omnibus Driver. Beggars in Ireland. Ride 
by rail to Dublin. 

July 22. — Land at last. Saw the coast of Ireland 
this morning ahont 4 o'clock. It is very rocky and 
often precipitous, and indented by deep ravines. A 
striking absence of trees and dwellings. Somewhat 
misty but promises to be pleasant. About 11 A. M. 
left steamer "Wyoming" and was taken on a lighter 
into Queenstown harbor, — one of the finest in Great 
Britain, large enough to float the whole British navy. 
It is very strongly fortified. We saw a regiment of 



Queenstown to DuUin. 23 

red-coats beino- drilled on one of tlie parade grounds 
on a height near a fortification. Queenstown rises on 
a rapidly ascending slope nortlnvard. Around the 
bay there is an exquisitely beautiful outline of hill, 
rayine, wooded dell, and emerald lawn, stretching- 
down to the water's edge. Such verdure I never saw 
before. The river Lee runs from this harbor up be- 
yond the city of Cork. Mailed our letters home, and 

took rail train to Cork. Mr. L , of Chicago, and 

his traveling companion, Mr. W . of New York, 

accompanying us. The ride up the valley of the Lee 
to Cork w^as charming. At Cork we took dinner at 
the Victoria Hotel, having delicious fresh salmon 
from the river Lee. We then took an Irish jaunting- 
car for Blarney Castle, five miles distant. Timothy 
O'Driscoll, the driver and owner of our jaunting car 
with its blind horse, was a paddy indade, always (if 
we could take his word for it) " the right man in the 
right place.'' ^'A man,"' said he, " of not much lam- 
ing, but a kind of natural knowledge man ; because, 
for shure, my father was a professional gintleman of 
Cork — one of the first citizens. He taught the violin, 
and wrote poetry, and in Latin no man in the world 
could bate him. So you see shure, I ought to 
be kinder knowin by natur." We did see it. His 
tongue was hung every way for a jabber, and with a 
roll and a roar he lashed his blind horse into a gallop 
and away we went from Cork toward Blarney. But 
such pictures of green stretches of river valley ! such 



2J^. Queenstmon to Dublin. 

softly roiiuded slopes ! such rich copses of old ivy-cov- 
ered trees ! such wild hedge rows, aflame with flowers ! 
such frequent old country seats of the quality, and 
such smooth roads and richly varied foliage ! delight- 
ed us to the full. The jolly, rollicking brogue of 
O'Driscoll and his wise know-nothings amused us, as 
every turii in the road gave a new^ spur to his sputter. 
Soon we went through a little farm village of huts, 
and out streamed a drove of children, and ere long 
we had nine trotting after our jaunting car begging 
for pennies. They kept it up for nearly a quarter of 
a mile, and would not be satisfied. We soon reached 
Blarney Castle — a ruin of weird and rare interest. It 
was built in 1440. Was beseiged and taken by the 
Prince of Orange about 1688. The huge stone tower 
with walls some eight feet thick, is over one hundred 
and twenty feet high. We ascended to the top, saw 
the Blarney Stone, — w^ere not silly enough to risk our 

necks in kissing it, though W w^anted to, and 

would, if I had not remonstrated. The view from the 
top is lovely beyond description. A part of the old 
ruin is ivy-covered, and the trees below are grand and 
massed in groves of the most luxuriant beauty. Ee- 
turned to Cork by another road, or rather green lane, 
with hedges overgrown with foirze, and rocky hill- 
sides blooming with the purple heather, and frequently 
fields where groups of beautiful cattle were grazing. 

At Cork we took the train for the Lakes of Killar- 
ney. In our compartment we rode with an Irishman 



Queenstown to Dublin. 25 

who was full of Tom Paine's slurs against religion, 
which he constantly obtruded upon us. This pro- 
voked replies, and after quite a wordy tustle with him, 
he was content to haul down his flaunting colors. 
All day, sun-smiles and showers had been alternating, 
and at evening we reached the Lakes in quite a 
rain. We are now at the Royal Victoria Hotel, 
snugly ensconsed, though the house is overrun with 

tourists. AY , full with a late supper, has gone 

sleepily to bed, to dream of the Castle of Blarney and 
the droll Tim O'DriscoU, while I am writing these 
notes on my open trunk lid. It is half past six in 
Cleveland, but eleven o'clock in "Ould Ireland," and 
I now bid you " good-night." 

KiUarney, County Kerry, Ireland, Sunday, July 
23, 1871. — Caught my first look at Lough Leane 
(lower lake) from the breakfast-room this morning. 
Mists draped the mountains, which stood around the 
water like the Highlands at West Point. Islands of 
indescribable picturesqueness, and softly green with 
luxuriant shrubbery of wild evergreens were flung into 
the water, between which and my eye lay a grassy 
slope gleaming as emerald. The Green Isle is the 
home of foliage. The very spirit of vegetable life 
broods and lingers on the whole landscape. 

Breakfast! I must speak of the method, in this 
my first experience in a foreign hotel. I went to the 
office and asked of the maid, who is accountant, 

3 



26 Quee?isfown to Duhlin. 

" Shall I order my breakfast here ?" " Oh !" said she, 
^"•'go to the coifee-room, sure, if you please, and order 
of the waiter." To the coffee-room I went, and seated, 
I told the waiter I would have bread, butter, coffee, 
fresh fish and cold beef. "What is jout number?" 
" Twenty-seven," said I. He then went to a clerk, 
dressed daintily in a swallow-tail coat, at his desk, 
who took notes of the order, and soon coffee, hot 
milk, bread, butter and fresh salmon, from the Black- 
water, were brought, and I broke my fast rapicljy with 
a zest made both acute and broad by Blarney and 
Killarney. A breakhist to remember as delicious. 
Neatness and sweetness, quiet and order, everywhere 
apparent, and the cleanest rooms an,d softest beds (not 
feathers) are comforts in a hotel which win their way 
to the pocket ungrudgingly. Now, a brief walk in 
the grounds — such grounds ! such trees! I will not 
here particularize. 

The jauuting car is at the door, and I, my son, Mr. 

L and Mr. W mount for a four mile ride, 

and passing by a private drive in the grounds through 
Lord Castle Eoss' demesne, into Hon. Mrs. Herbert's 
demesne, and through Killarney village, we reach 
Muck Eoss Chapel, where w^e attended Divine wor- 
ship — hearing one of the Deans of the Dublin Cathe- 
dral, (Episcopal,) officiate and preach. This w^as a 
surprise. We expected to hear the holder of the 
living ; but instead, had the opportunity to listen to 
one of the stars of the Church in Ireland. He was 



Queenstown to Dublin. 27 

a rosy, handsome man, rapid and mechanical in the 
service, with the Irish specialty of accent. The 
sermon (listening to it, as I then thought, from the 
curate) struck me as very thoughtful. What ! thought 
I, do these retired country rectors grasp truth in this 
way ? If so, there must be something marvelous in 
the system. The sermon, to a dissenter informed as 
to the stress of religious thought in our day, was not 
marked. There were parts a little dimmed by the 
shadow of baptismal regeneration, but in the main it 

w^as of genuine excellence. Bishop L and his 

wife were there. 

As w^e left, what a gem of a church-yard! sweet 
flowers and grass and trees ! Were it all like this, we 
could say with the "Exile," "Erin forever!" We 
went then to a ruin, which more than realized all my 
dreams of ruins — the old Abbey of Muck Soss. It 
belongs to the Hon. Mrs. Herbert, wife of Captain 
Herbert, M. P. for Kerry, who accompanied the 
Bishop, the Dean, (who preached,) and a young Lord, 
to the Abbey. The queen of this Sheba, the Hon. 
Mrs. Herbert, mistress of the broad demesne which 
includes the Abbey, was also with the part}^ She is 
about thirty-five, blue eyes, light hair, not specially 
attractive in features or voice, and though richly 
dressed, wholly ud pretentious. She is said to be 
highly exemplary as a Christian, a wife and a mother. 
But to the Abbey. Such a vast park ! Immense old 
beeches, each as large as a grove; oaks, rich and 



28 Queenstoimi to Duhlin. 

majestic; yews, gnarled and ancient; lindens, sweet 
and wide-spreading ; evergreens of every hue ; shrub- 
bery in mass-like weaves of green, and grassy slopes on 
every hand, till we come to the Abbey. Weird waif 
from the dark ages, — ivy-crowned, ivy-covered, ivy- 
nourished, with yew trees on one side, and storied 
old oaks on the other. In front, a grand avenue of 
beeches, lindens, and horse-chestnuts, planted in me- 
dieval days by the friars. The Abbey itself, perched 
on a rounded height looking down on Lough Leane, 
and over the lake on the dark mist-crow^ned moun- 
tains beyond. Live thou! old Abbey in memory, 
green as thine own ivy ! A dream of the past — dark, 
barbaric, superstitious, and yet instinct with strange 
beauty and wreathed in romance ! 

"The Abbey of Muck Eoss was founded in 1440, 
and repaired in 1602. It consists of an abbey and 
church." You enter the church, now roofless. In 
front, a huge tow^er, ivy-robed to the summit ; in the 
rear, the great frame of the east window with its 
stone mullions still perfect, and the side walls and 
windows around. Within, are graves and time-wasted 
monuments filling every inch of space. On the side 
toward the Lake are the cloisters, where the monks 
once walked around an open court, in the center of 
which is one of the largest yew trees in the world — an 
impersonation of the long-gone past, and the living 
present; a green link grappling the noiu, to the dark 
ages. Above, on one side, is the refectory, and back 



Queenstoiun to DuUin, 29 

of that the dining-room, with its huge fire-place, 
chimney and stone mantle; and back of that the dor- 
mitory. On another side is the dungeon, and below, 
the great cellar. In the front, is the Abbot's reception 
room, and above, the monks' chapel ; and from the 
second story, projects the window where the Abbot 
stood on a balcony to address the people wdien assem- 
bled in the grounds below. It is now all gone. But 
our 71010, with its history, culture and growth, strikes 
its roots into the past, whence it grew, as the brave 
old ivy, in its regal green draws sustenance and finds 
standing-room in the crumbling ruin. 

Eeturned to the hotel, but dropped W on the 

way at Killarney village, to mingle with the throngs 
issuing from the cathedral. And now you are ten 
minutes to twelve o'clock in Cleveland, and w^e are 
six minutes to five by the old clock on the stairway of 
our hotel — the very spot where my nephew^ James, told 
us w^hen at our house in March last, that when he was 
abroad, he broke the main-spring of his watch as he 
wound it, when hurrying to the train. How^ little I 
thought, when he told the story, that on a Sabbath in 
the next July, I would be jotting down notes of my 
doings within hearing of the tick of the same clock, 
in Killarney, County Kerry. 

9 P. M. — Have just been in the jaunting car 
again to Killarney village and attended service at 
the Parish Episcopal church. But thirty-six persons 



so Queenstoiun to DuUin, 

in attendance, including W , myself, the curate, 

and a stranger — a former fellow of Oxford — who 
preached a very feeble sermon, during part of which 
I was refreshed with a nap. A great building, very 
solid and beautiful, costing forty thousand dollars, 
and only about thirty families, as we learned after- 
ward, regularly attending. The vicars in Ireland 
who were officiating before the disestablishment, have 
annuities secured to them for life; and tithes are yet 
to be levied for fifty years. Afterward, we went^to the 
little Presbyterian Mission chapel, sustained by the 
Irish General Assembly. Including ourselves and 
the preacher, there were eighteen present. Stayed 
after sermon, and talked with the preacher. A 
sweet-hearted North of Ireland Christian. He knew 
us instantly as Americans. He preaches in a circuit 
of about eighty miles, in school-houses, every month. 
He says that the Eomanist Bishop is quite liberal, 
and that Episcopalians are kind to him. What a 
contrast between the droves that flock to the cathedral 
here, and the few, at the Protestant churches. It has 
rained and shined at frequent intervals all day, like 
a mild April day at home. 

Monday, July 2Jf.. — Conclude to stay till to-morrow 
morning. On referring to a large map of Ireland 
hung in the hall of our hotel, we were amused by the 
frequent use of " Bally " as a prefix to Irish names : 
as, for instance, Ballydove, Ballylander, Ballylongford, 



Queenstown to DuUin. SI 

Ballybnnnion, Ballyhooly, Ballyheigh, and fiTially, 
among many others, we descried Ballyhack — doubt- 
less the veritable original — that place of great renown, 
but which none of us had the slightest desire to go to. 
After breakfast, Bishop L and his two interest- 
ing daughters, Mr. L and his friend W , my 

son and I, formed a party and took a carriage for Gap 
Dunloe. After a ride of two miles we entered the Gap, 
passed up for two miles further through a wild rocky 
mountain pass. On the left, the Purple Mountain 
rose about two thousand five hundred feet, present- 
ing a front towards us with a ^sloping precipice of 
one thousand feet of slate-shiugle flecked with great 
patches of green heather; and all around as we rode, 
ten to twenty mountain rivulets were breaking into 
cascades from the rocky heights. Below us on our 
winding way, we passed a succession of little lakes, 
deep and dark. At one point in the Gap, a bugler 
accompanying us played the " Last Rose of Summer," 
and the precipitous walls of the pass echoed the 
strains as he played, with a richness of tone, a delicacy 
of receding melody, and a wild blending of notes as 
in an orchestra, which thrilled us. We could have 
listened with delight for hours. Then, cannon were 
fired, and the echoes went thundering up the Gap. 
But gun-powder is better for blasting, than music. 
On we went. Soon we mounted ponies and ascend- 
ing the wild bridle-path — ever varied, ever pictur- 
esque — we reached the summit. All the way we met 



S2 Queenstown to Dublin. 

dashes of rain and driving clouds. We descended, 
winding round and round, over stone bridges, beside 
waterfalls, under bold rocky cliflfs, looking down on 
narrow valleys with scattered huts beside little bits of 
bottom land, until we reached the upper lake, where 
oarsmen with a boat met us, and we embarked to 
return through the lakes. Eain and cloud; but 
with umbrellas and shawls we got on merrily. The 
scenery was matchless. Can not portray its unceasing- 
variety and wildness. We ate our lunch of delicious 
sandwiches, drank some home-brewed ale, talked, told 
stories, laughed, re-laughed, and wet and jolly we 
glided among the mountains, — noted the flitting sun- 
shine and showers, which brought out in gleam, or 
wreathed in mist the splintered summits, or gave 
lustre to the luxuriant clumps of evergreen arbutus at 
their base ; till at length we landed on Innisfallen 
Island. Here we saw the oldest Abbey of all, said to 
have been founded in the year 600, by St. Finian. It 
is a rough old ruin, evidently many centuries older 
than Muck Ross Abbey. The views about it are of 
perfect rural loveliness. A flock of fine blooded sheep 
were feeding in the groves and on the luxuriant 
glades around the Abbey. Thence, crossing to the 
opposite shore, we went to Ross Castle — a historic 
ruin. As we approached it on the water, the view of 
its massive towers and battlements wreathed in ivy, 
which covered the whole surface with living green, 
was of unequaled beauty. This Castle, in 1662, was 



Queenstoicn to Dublin. 33 

"beseiged by the English, and the garrison of about 
five thousand surrendered. 

Keturned to our hotel. Took dinner at table 
d'hote. Would describe the routine, but can not 
take time now. Will defer the detail till I get home, 
when I will try and remember it. Must now pack 
for Dublin. 

Tuesday Morning, July 25. — Awoke with the sun 
smiling warm into my window, and the rooks, which 
abound here, strutting on the ridge of an adjoining 
building. But before I dressed it rained, and now 
cloud and mist prevail. After breakfast, we were 
piled on the top of a huge omnibus to ride to the 
depot. The load was immense, tasking the strength 
of two horses abreast and a leader, which, for the first 
half-mile was led by a boy, who, holding a little whip, 
trotted on by his side. Thinking this a queer method 
when the lines for all three were gathered in hand by 
our driver, we asked him why he needed the boy ? 
With a jolly, rollicking brogue, as if equal to any 
emergency, he answered by shouting to the boy : '^ I 
say, Pat ! jist tooch him a bit now. Don't hurt him, 
Pat! Only advise him a little, till he gits warm 
under the collar." 

Beautiful ride to Dublin. Saw many towns solidly 
built ; a good deal of choice farming country ; frequent 
groups of fine cattle; and great numbers of peat 
meadows, whence the principal fuel for the peasantry 
is obtained ; passed half a dozen ruined castles, and 



SJf. Queenstown to DuUin. 

some pleasant country seats ; but, on the whole, the 
husbandry was poorer than I anticipated. Many 
meadows and pastures were very foul with weeds, and 
a great deal of land looked neglected, as if owned by 
non-residents and left to tenants having no interest 
in improvement. 

I was surprised this morning, into an Irisli hull. 
This being our first day's ride on one of the trunk 
lines of railway abroad, I had been intent on seeing 
everything new — in the cars — their trucks and coup- 
lings, the method of signaling trains at stations, the 
roadway, the frequent and costly bridges by which the 
farm roads were all taken high over the track ; and, 
among other novelties, I noticed that stones marking 
distances were set up every quarter of a mile. For 
instance — going north — I saw a stone post marked 
"Dublin, 80 miles," again another, "Dublin, 79| 
miles," next, "Dublin, 79^^ miles," and so on. Quite 
surprised at my discovery, and eager to apprise a friend 
in an adjoining car, who had a common interest in 
anything new, I called to him from my car window 
at the next brief stopping place, and having secured 
his attention, I shouted earnestly, " Do you see here, 
that there are mile posts evei^y quarter of a mile 9" 
He did see it, as I found by his hearty laugh in 
response; and so did I, when I came to realize that I 
was under the subtle influence of the air of Ireland, 
as much to my own merriment as his, in which our 
party all joined, and with one voice voted that the 



Quee7istown to Duhlin. 85 

bull was as thoroughly Irish as if it had been "to the 
manor born." 

The railway eating houses on the line are arranged 
only for lunch ; the cars don't stop long enough to sit 
at table. The lunch furnished, however, is excellent. 
Keatness and system were seen everywhere. I omitted, 
in the account of the excursion yesterday through Gap 
Dunloe, all mention of the throngs of beggars — men, 
women and children — which at every hamlet, turn of 
the road, and stopping place, streamed out and ran 
after us, some asking for money directly, some offer- 
ing mountain dew (whisky,) goat's milk, and knick- 
knacks, for sale. I never imagined such pertinacity. 
I filled my pockets when leaving the hotel, with all 
the small silver and copper I could get, and long 
before returning, I had rim dry. We reached Dublin 
at 5 P. M. 



CHAPTER III. 



DUBLIN^ TO LONDOX. 



Dublin. Trinity Colleg:e. Goldsmith. Burke. Library. Building:s. 
Old Portraits. Students. Irish Parliament House. Tapestry 
Pictures. Cathedral. Swift. Whately. Trench. Royal Chapel. 
Phoenix Park. Zoolog:ical Gardens. Wellington Monument. 
Over Channel to Holyhead. Steamer— Swiftness— Oscillating 
Cylinders. Hail to Menai Bridge, Wonderful Suspension 
Bridge. Britannia Tubular Bridge— Description. Welsh Moun- 
tains. Llanberis. Ascent of Snowdon. Views. Slate Quarries. 
Ride to Bettws-y-coed. Pass of Llanberis. Lovely Yalleys_ 
Swallow^ Falls. Conway Castle. Chester, England. City, 
Old Roman Wall. Cathedral. Battle Flags. Grotesque and 
Indecent Ornaments. London. 

At Dublin we put up at the Shelbourne Hotel, one 
of the best in Ireland. Dined at the table d'hote, 
and afterward took a car and rode about the city. It 
was bright twilight till nearly 9 o'clock. Very cold. 
Would think at home that such cold would nearly 
bring frost. Have known nothing of July warmth 
since we reached the Banks of Newfoundland. One 
needs to be clothed as in winter. 

July ^^.— Went with W to Trinity College, 

where Goldsmith, and Edmund Burke were educated; 



Dublin to London. S7 

saw the museum — tlie library, of over two hundred 
thousand volumes — the new lecture building, with a 
magnificent entrance-hall and stairways, having two 
lofty domes inlaid with parti-colored tiles, and sup- 
ported by columns of highly polished variegated 
native marble. Saw the various lecture rooms, the 
geological museum, philosophical apparatus and engi- 
neering collections. Saw there, a model of the steam 
engine as invented and perfected by James Watt. 
In another building is the great examination hall 
for public exercises. It has nine full length oil 
portraits — among them one of Dean Swift, who died 
in 1745 : one of Queen Elizabeth, who died in 1603, 
and is represented as having red hair, and features 
quite marked, but not beautiful; also one of Arch- 
bishop Berkley, painted by his wife; and one of 
Edmund Burke, who died in 1797. The grounds of 
the College are very large and of immense value — 
being, I should judge, nearly forty acres in the heart 
of the city. There are over thirteen hundred stu- 
dents, but only about three hundred reside in the 
College. The others have various places of residence 
in England, Ireland, or elsewhere, but are enrolled on 
the catalogue, and are examined at the regular exam- 
inations of the College. There are thirty-six fellows, 
and a great number of Professors. The College, 
doubtless, derives a princely income from the estates 
it holds in all parts of Great Britain, the gift of the 
crown, or of its Alumni. This morning we saw also 



38 DuUin to London. 

the old Irish Parliament House, now owned by the 
Bank of Ireland. The Hall of the Commons is used 
as a counting room ; but the Hall of the House of 
Lords remains as it was when used by the Peers of 
Ireland. Two large Gobelin Tapestry pictures adorn 
the walls; one representing the battle of Boyne, and 
the other the seige of Londonderry. They are won- 
derfully spirited. The oak carvings in the room are 
of great beauty. 

In the afternoon visited the Dublin Cathedral, 
(Episcopal,) where Dean Swift preached and is buried; 
also where Archbishop Whately preached ; and Arch- 
bishop Trench now preaches. It is a vast structure 
with many features of interest. We also saw the 
Royal Chapel for the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, 
connected with the Castle. It is elaborately orna- 
mented, and is wonderfully rich in oak cornices. The 
main window has some stained glass about four cen- 
turies old. 

Afterward, went to Phoenix Park, containing about 
seventeen hundred acres, of great beauty, with masses 
of grand old trees and wide reaches of lawn. The 
Zoological collection here has many rare specimens. 
Saw a very large ostrich ; a living pelican of striking 
size and perfection ; a male and female condor from 
the Andes ; an immense Polar bear ; large lions, lion- 
esses, leopards; many rare birds; and a large female 
elephant, very docile and trained to turn the crank of 
a hand-organ, to blow a trumpet, and to play on a 



DtiUin to London. 39 

harmonica. There is also here an immense monument 
in honor of Wellington, with fonr very large bass- 
reliefs in bronze, made from cannon taken by him, 
and representing the greatest battles of the Iron 
Duke. 

In the evening called at the rooms of Bishop L , 

and heard some very charming singing by Mrs. 
H , a relative of the Bishop, who, with her hus- 
band Colonel H , had recently joined the Bishop's 

party. 

Jiily 21, — Left Dublin at 6 A. M. for Kingstown, 
on the bay forming the Port of Dublin, to take the 
steamer for Holyhead, Wales. Had a very smooth 
trip across St. George's channel. The steamer is a 
large and powerful one of iron, very swift, having 
sometimes for short distances, made twenty-two miles 
an hour, as we were told by the sailing Master. It 
burns thirty tons of coal in four hours. I saw for the 
first time on board, oscillating cylinders. This is a 
very ingenious arrangement to dispense with a walk- 
ing beam ; thus saving room in the hold, and proba- 
bly, also, quite an amount of dead lift. The steamer 
had a double engine — a cylinder on each side. These 
were hung at an equipoise on axles in their sides, so 
that they could oscillate as the piston-rod of each, 
which was attached directly to a crank in the shaft, 
moved to and fro in the revolutions. The steam was 
let in and discharged by openings through the axles 



Jfi Dublin to London. 

into the cylinders. Thus the power was applied 
directly to the resistance, with no drawback saye the 
alternating inertia and momentum in the movement 
of the cylinders. 

At Holyhead took the cars for Menai Bridge. The 
suspension bridge is sustained by wrought iron bars 
bolted together in long lines, instead of wire cables, 
(the modern form.) It is a wonderful structure, and 
was designed by Thos. Talfourd — a poor boy in his 
early life, herding sheep and having seven ty-fiv^e cents 
a year allowed him to buy clogs. But he rose by his 
own energies to be one of the most distinguished 
engineers of the world. Length of the iron chains of 
bars, seventeen hundred and fifteen feet; length of 
span between abutments, five hundred and ninety 
feet. A ship of three hundred tons, with all sails set, 
can pass under. 

The great marvel however, here, of engineering 
skill, is the Britannia Tubular Bridge, built by the 
younger Stephenson over the Menia Straits, connect- 
ing the island of Anglesea with Wales. The total 
length is eighteen hundred and forty-one feet ; height 
above water at high-tide, one hundred and one feet ; 
length of two main spans, four hundred and sixty feet 
each. We went down under the bridge and were 
powerfully impressed with its wonderful beauty and 
strength. The bridge is a quadrangular tube, having 
a double railway track. The most ponderous trains 
in crossing the great spans of nearly five hundred 



Dublin to London. Jf.1 

feet, cause a deflexion so slight as to be hardly 
appreciable. The sides of the bridge I found, to my 
surprise, to be of but one thickness of boiler iron 
riveted in upright plates, with frequent openings to 
admit light and air. The great strength is in the 
bottom, and the top of the tube, which are formed 
alike; each has a double iron floor with a space 
between of almost two feet, which is thickly wrought 
into diamond shaped cells about three feet across, 
formed by transverse and intersecting walls of boiler 
iron strongly riveted in place. The sides of the bridge 
simply suspend the bottom from, and connect it with 
the top — the strength being in the top to resist thrust, 
and in the bottom to bear tension. 

About 5 P. M. we reached Llanberis, in the heart of 
the Welsh mountains of Canarvon. Here are the 
great slate quarries. Above the village, old Snowdon, 
the highest mountain in the kingdom, lifts its head 
thirty-five hundred and seventy-one feet above the 
sea. 

We put up at the Royal Victoria Hotel. After 

dinner we (that is Mr. L and his friend W 

and I) took ponies and a guide and ascended the 
mountain — a five mile ride up — and returned about 
9 P. M. On the way down, we met my son and a 

traveling friend Mr. P , of Richmond, Va., on 

their way up the mountain ; they having left us in the 
afternoon to go to Canarvon Castle. The views from 
Snowdon were grand. The whole island of Anglesea 

4 



Jf2 Dublin to London. 

lies before you in one view, with a distant vision of 
the mountains in the Isle of Man. On the other side 
a large portion of Wales is seen, and mountains on 
mountains in a vast billowy sea lie below you. Re- 
turning to our hotel we heard some wild and plaintive 
singing in Welsh by three young men. Also three 
little girls about ten years old, for three pence each, 
were glad to sing for us some of their Welsh airs, 
with admirable spirit and harmony. 

July 28. — Misty, and slight rain. W and Mr. 

P spent the night on Snowdon to see the sun 

rise. They were disappointed in this, but got how- 
ever, some pretty good views through openings in 
the mist. They returned to the hotel early in the 
morning. We visited after breakfast, the great slate 
quarries, in which about three thousand men and 
boys are employed. The whole mountain nearly, is 
of slate, of different colors, and blastings are made of 
immense masses from the face of the cliff, and the 
huge blocks of slate thus thrown down, are split up 
into slates as easily as you would cleave clear pine 
wood. The pieces are then cut into various sizes for 
roofing. The men who drill for blasting are tied in 
ropes and then let down the face of the mountain. 
Often there are accidents, and men are killed nearly 
every month in the year. 

Started about 9 A. M., by stage, to go to Bettws-y- 
coed, through the pass of Llanberis. We had a 



Dublin to London. ^S 

delightful ride on the outside of the coach, although 
we were overtaken by several drenching showers, from 
which we protected ourselves, as best we could, by 
umbrellas and shawls. The pass was of great wild- 
ness — rocky, and precipitous. Beyond the summit, 
as we descended, we had views of some lovely little 
green valleys nestled in the bosom of the old moun- 
tains around, which seemed to hold and nourish 
these valleys — made fertile by the wash of the moun- 
tain slopes — as parents fondle and nourish children 
in their arms. Going down, we passsed the Swallow 
Falls — an interesting rapid and cascade, very similar 
to some of the Trenton Falls, New York. 

Arriving at Bettws-y-coed we took the train for 
Chester, England. We soon passed a station which 
the Welsh sjjell "Llanrwst," but pronounce Clanroost, 

Arriving at Conway we visited the castle — one of 
the largest and most important ruins in the kingdom. 
It stands on the Conway river, and in ancient times 
guarded England from incursions by the wild Welsh 
mountaineers, issuing through the Conway pass in 
the Snowdon mountains, and carrying fire and sword 
into the plains beloAV. This castle has many interest- 
ing historical associations. The walls are about eight 
feet thick in the main portions. There were origin- 
ally eight towers of great height, but four have been 
taken down. King Edward I. was besieged in this 
castle by Madoc, a son of Llewellyn, in 1290. In 
1647 the castle was surrendered to the Parliament 
forces, in CromwelFs time. 



Jf.Jf. Dublin to London. 

We arrived at evening in Chester, and put up at 
the Grosvenor Hotel — a very fine house — where pala- 
tial rooms were assigned to us. After supper we 
walked about this quaint and ancient city by moon- 
light. It contains nearly forty thousand inhabitants. 
Many business men of Liverpool, sixteen miles dis- 
tant, reside here. 

Jiily 29. — AYalked around the city, about two miles 
on the toj) of the old ivall, visiting the severaJ towers. 
This wall was standing in the year 72. The Romans 
held this part of England nearly five hundred years, 
and there are many traces of their sway, which on 
the whole was beneficent and tended to the civiliza- 
tion of the ancient Britons. We next visited the 
cathedral where Kingsley is one of the canons, and 
Howson (of Connybeare and Howson) is the Dean. 
This cathedral is one of the oldest in the Kingdom, 
and deeply interested us. It is three hundred and 
fifty feet long from the entrance to the east window; 
has side arches, a north and south transept, a choir, 
a chapter room, a court and cloisters. The choir is 
elegantly ornamented with canopies having pinnacles 
and pendants of richly carved oak. To the left of 
the main entrance of the cathedral is a portion of the 
old oaken roof ceiling, highly ornamented, of the 
time of Cardinal Wolsey. Nearly every inch of the 
pavement of the cathedral is occupied by graves of 
those buried here, and the walls below are filled with 



Diiblin to London. Jf5 

memorial tablets and inscriptions. In the chapter 
room is a flag which was carried in Wolfs army at 
the storming of the Heights of Abraham and captnre 
of Quebec, and another flag borne by the British in 
the battle of Bunker Hill. The terminal lines of the 
groined arches in the cathedral nave rest on corbels 
cut in stone, wrought into grotesque representations 
of the human face and form; and some of them, we 
were told by the beadle, were so indecent that they 
have been removed, or covered with plaster. It was 
said also that there were other evidences of the cor- 
ruption of the old monks in the early Eomanist days 

of the cathedral. W remained at Chester to 

hear Canon Kingsley preach, to-morrow, and I came 
on to London, arriving about 9 o'clock, and taking 
rooms, in this greatest city of the world, in the 
seventh story of the Langham Hotel. An\ greatly 
disappointed in finding no letters awaiting my 
arrival ; and now, at eight minutes past 6 with you, 
but at half past 11 in London, I go to bed, seeking 
gratefully to commend you all and myself to Him 
who equally on either continent, is ready to uphold 
all who put their trust in Him. 



CHAPTER IV. 



LONDOK. 



First view of the Great City. Hansom Cabs. Sermon in West- 
minster Abbey. Thames. "Westminster Bridge. Frequent 
rain. Spurgeon's Tabernacle. Service there. Spurgeon's 
appearance— Manner— Outline of his Sermon— Lord's Supper — 
Large attendance— Number of Membership— Service contrasted 
with that in Westminster Abbey. Getting admission into 
Parliament. 

July 30, London, — Awoke in this great city this 
morning. Quite clear at first, but before I got up it 
rained. There is less fog and smoke, as yet, than I 
anticipated. I am in the seventh story, above the 
eaves of the Langham Hotel ; and I look down upon 
the great sea of houses. In the far north perhaps 
five miles away, I see a range of highlands, dotted 
with mansions and spires. About half a mile in 
front of me is Eegenfc Park. The streets are broad 
and clean in this part of the city, (Portland Place W.,) 
and everything is quiet. Many of the streets are 
macadamized in the roadway. In the coffee-room, 
at breakfast, I was called upon to fill out a written 



London. 47 

order for what I wished and date it, giving my 
number and name. After breakfast I took a hansom 
cab for Westminster Abbey to attend morning service* 
These cabs are a curiosity. They are hung very low, 
on two wheels, the body, seat, back, and cover resemb- 
ling our gigs. The shafts curve upward to nearly a 
level with the horse's back. The driver sits behind 
all on a little high seat perched above the cover. 
Two can ride in them with comfort. They are driven 
rapidly, and make two miles in a short time. For 
baggage, four wheeled cabs are used with a place for 
trunks on top, the driver sitting in front. 

Westminster Abbey — I can only speak briefly now, 
as I went there for divine worship, not to see. The 
preacher was one of the minor canons — a Mr. Alford, 
probably a relative of the distinguished Dean, — who 
monotonously read a very common-place sermon, 
though good in sentiment. There was a large attend- 
ance, but doubtless mainly strangers who came to see 
the world-famed Abbey. After service, I walked a 
short time, past the great Parliament House, and 
across the Thames on Westminster bridge. This was 
my first view of the Thames. It was very turbid, the 
tide running up rapidly. It is about half as wide as 
the Hudson at Albany — ^perhaps not quite that width. 
The bridge is a grand one, with seven arches of iron, 
of immense strength, having a broad paved stone road- 
way over the whole, on which omnibus and carriage 
horses trot rapidly, and crowds of people are constantly 
passing. Ee turned by cab to the Langham. 



Jt8 London, 

Afternoon. — In my room. There has been a high 
wind, and now it is raining rapidly. It has been 
wet every day but one since I landed. Shower and 
sunshine, like April ; only the sunshine is yery transi- 
tory. Would as soon think of going out without 
shoes, as without an umbrella, and I wear constantly 
my overcoat, and am hardly warm with that. Give 
me thus far, our American climate with all its 
extremes, rather than this amphibious condition; 
though it be kindly toward tender shrubbery. 

Evenmg. — I have been to hear Spurgeon preach. 
The Tabernacle is about four miles from the Lang- 
ham Hotel. I took a cab about 6 P. M., and was 
there in time. I had some apprehensions about 
getting in, as this is the first Sabbath for some weeks 
on which Spurgeon has preached, having been laid 
aside by a severe attack of the gout. Going into the 
churchyard however, although hundreds were stand- 
ing awaiting the opening of the doors, an usher who 
was in the uniform of a policeman, saw me and asked 
me if I was a stranger. I told him I was from 
America. " Oh well then," says he, " go right in and 
take the first seat you find in the lower galleries." 
He handed me at the same time a little envelope, 
which, said he, '' please read as you go." I saw it was 
an invitation to contribute to the support of Spur- 
geon's College. To this I gladly responded. Enter- 
ing, I found an excellent seat in full view and hearing 
of the speaker. 



London, J/B 

The Tabernacle is an immense building, very con- 
veniently arranged, though plain. It is admirably 
lighted with three rows of windows oyer each other 
on the sides, giving the freest ingress of light and air. 
The glass is plain, and with no shield of even blinds 
to the windows. These are not needed in London ; 
and as the whole congregation unite in singing, and 
most of them have Bibles which they use when the 
Scriptures are read, there is a necessity for good light 
in all parts. There are two tiers of galleries running 
entirely round the immense audience room. There 
is no pulpit, but a simple projection of a platform 
with a balustrade from the lower gallery in the end 
opposite the entrance. There, Spurgeon stands in 
preaching, with a simple table beside him, and the 
people seated all around him. The church will seat 
six thousand, and it is said that another thousand 
can crowd standing into the aisles. The seats were 
all occupied this evening, and hundreds were in the 
aisles. 

Soon after I was seated, Spurgeon, Avho is yet quite 
lame, came limping down from the vestry in the rear 
of the gallery, and took his seat on a sofa near the 
table. He is short, and deep chested ; his head and 
face full, but not striking. He is sturdy in mien ; 
has very little action, and that not graceful, but per- 
fectly natural. He speaks in a conversational tone, 
just as one would talk earnestly. His voice is rich and 
sweet, though not particularly flexible or expressive, 



50 London. 

except of continued earnestness. It is a kindly and 
persuasive voice. He read the hymns as though he 
felt their sentiment, but with no special skill. His 
prayer was very natural and simple, and was devout 
and special in its suplications. He read the IX 
Psalm, accompanying nearly every verse with com- 
ment in a conversational way. As, for instance, on 
the first verse : " I will praise thee with my whole 
heart, Lord." " You see here,'' said he, " that 
David came to a resohdion, 'I ^vill praise Thee!' Not 
only this — it was no mere lip service — but praise * with 
the loliole lieart.^ God gives His heart to those He 
loves, and we should do no less than to give the whole 
heart in return." "Again, ' I will show forth all thy 
marvellous works.' A great undertaking surely this, 
but however, as we have eternity in which to utter 
praises, we may hope to show all God's marvellous 
works." Again, on the tenth verse, "And they that 
know Thy name will put their trust in Thee, for 
Thou, Lord, hast not forsaken them that seek Thee." 
" There," said he, " I wish you to take that Scripture 
home to your hearts, every one of you, and know that 
the Lord never forsakes them that seek Him." 

The singing was most impressive. The tunes and 
hymns old and familiar, and every one sang. There 
was no organ or instrument, simply a leader who stood 
beside Spurgeon, and the whole temple was made 
to overflow with the voice of all the peo])le praising- 
God. The text was the last clause of the fourteenth 



London. 51 

verse of IX Psalm : " I will rejoice in Thy salvation." 
I will endeavor to give you an idea of the sermon, 
stating first that Spurgeon spoke without notes, 
except a little slip of paper which he looked at 
once or twice only. He has remarkable fluency, of 
the conversational kind. The flow of thought is 
almost wholly experimental, appealing to common 
experience, often colloquial and homely, but always 
clear, and frequently of special appositeness, with no 
verbiage, and never labored. 

I give an outline of the sermon from memory. 

"^I will rejoice in Thy salvation.' I spoke to you 
this morning of salvation quite at length — as to what 
it was, and what it was not. That it was not only 
deliverance from the penalty of sin, but from sin itself. 
I will this evening look at the same subject from a 
ditferent point of view. First. — Observe that the 
salvation spoken of is not ours. We may make it 
ours by possession through its acceptance by faith. 
But the salvation is God's work, not ours. It is His 
in the planning. The whole scheme was the fruit of 
the Divine thought and purpose. Man never so 
much as dreamed of the plan. That is wholly 
Divine. Again, it is of G-od's procuring. He not only 
planned, but he imijarts it. We cannot procure it, 
except as he gives it. Again, it is divine in its adap- 
tation to man. It is just fitted to the wants of all 
men, in all conditions. None so guilty but it may 
be adequate to their forgiveness and cleansing ; none 



52 London. 

so high, or so low, but it is precisely fitted to all their 
soul's needs. Thus God planned, and God imparts, 
to all who will accept by faith, a salvation perfectly 
adapted to their needs. I believe in free agency ; but 
yet I doubt if there was ever a believer who did not 
say that the Father drew him. ' No man can come 
unto me except the Father draw him.' There, is a 
lack of power. '■ Ye will not come unto me that ye 
might have life.' There, is a lack of ivill. But this 
is God's salvation. It bears every mark of its divinity 
of origin. You see a line of poetry, and you say, '■ It 
is Shakespeare,' yet you do not know that it is by 
being able to refer to it in place. Still, the impress of 
its author cannot be mistaken. You read a portion 
of a Psalm; you know it to be David's. Some may 
say, ' doubtful,' it may be rather about the time of the 
captivity. You, however, have no doubt; for you 
know how David speaks. I once saw a painting in 
Venice by Titian. It was doubtless genuine, but 
that there might be no mistake, there was written 
under it, ' Titian fecit, fecit.' Tivice ' fecit,' that there 
could be no doubt. So God has set His signet on His 
salvation twice — once, in the planning and imparting; 
and again, in its perfect adaptation to the sinner in 
his conscious experience. But I will not detain 
you here. I pass to notice a second feature in the 
text. It is a salvation that brings joij. There is no 
man so entitled to happiness of heart as he whose 
sins are forgiven, and who is being drawn to God in 



London. 53 

Christ. The impenitent do not think of God. They 
are not drawn to Him. If they saw in the Gazette 
that God had died, and they could believe it true, it 
would be rather a relief, and they would hail the fact 
as giving full scope to their reckless indulgences. 
The awakened man is inquiring after God ; but the 
believer rejoices in God. Then should the believer 
throw open with gladness his whole heart to this 
salvation. He should strew the streets of his heart 
with flowers to welcome the Savior; he should ring 
out all the bells of happiness. Some peoj)le imagine 
religion to be melancholy. Never a greater mistake. 
I would not forbid the banns as near of kin, but I do 
say, that it is a sad thing for a Christian to become 
melancholy ; but it is a glad thing for a melancholy 
man to become Christian. This salvation then, is 
God's in its planning, its imparting, and its adaptation. 
Everything is blended in it that is requisite. The 
sinners guilt is expiated. God does not forgive sin 
without punishment. Christ has borne the penalty 
for us. God, in this salvation, is as just as though 
he knew no mercy; and is as merciful in it as though 
He knew only grace. I will then rejoice in tliis salva- 
tion. I remember when a boy, as I sat far under the 
gallery, and heard of this gospel, and salvation, the 
time when I too found joy in it, and did rejoice in its 
adaptation to my soul. I could bring those to this 
platform to-night who have trusted in this salvation 



5J^ London. 

for scores of years — men and women — and they would 
tell you that it was divine, as a well-spring of joy to 
their souls. I could wish my old grandfather still 
alive and behind me, as he once was when I preached 
of this salvation, and at the close of my sermon he 
pulled my coat-tail and arose and came forward beside 
me, saying to the people : ' My grandson has told you 
what he Relieves of this salvation ; but I can tell you, 
friends, of what I have tried and proven many years, 
of its joy and blessedness.' Now, wh o is there here 
to-night who will not rejoice with me in this salva- 
tion ? It is intended to fill the soul with delightful 
emotion and to make it sing for gladness. Are any 
here who are poor in this world's goods ? I welcome 
you to the house of God. I am always happy when 
the poor have the Gospel preached to them. Dear 
brethren, you may be rich in this salvation. Are any 
of you afilicted ? This is just what you need. We 
often need trial. The Master has handled me quite 
roughly recently; but I rejoice to follow Him, though 
He should even whip me as a dog. I had rather be 
a dog following Jesus, than be the devil's darling. 
Some, trust in other salvation. They heed the priest 
over the way there, who puts on his millinery of black, 
or white, or blue, or what not, and rings bells, and 
heeds ceremonies prescribed by an ^ infallible' sinner ; 
but I will trust in no salvation but God's. Yea, I 
will rejoice in it. I would that as you all go out I 



London. 55 

could stand at the door and take each of yon by the 
hand and ask, 'Are you ready now, to rejoice in this 
salvation?' I cannot do this; but I can and do pray 
that God may give all of yon peace and everlasting 
joy in this His great salvation. Amen." 

Notice was given that the Lord's supper would be 
celebrated in the basement after the service. I went 
down and participated. There were about fifteen 
hundred present, filling the large room. Spurgeon 
was not there, having gone home on account of his 
recent sickness* There were ten deacons who con- 
ducted the service simply and impressively. The 
church numbers about four thousand members. 

Beside me in the gallery during the preaching, sat 
a young man, doubtless a mechanic, who afterwards 
introduced himself to me as a member of the church, 
and requested me to allow him to send to me a copy 
of the morning sermon, which would be printed in 
a day or two. This attention to strangers is very 
pleasing and useful. 

While sitting in the Tabernacle this evening where 
Spurgeon, standing in the midst of six thousand 
people, was fervently leading them in prayer and 
praise and instruction from. God's word, and then 
profoundly moving all hearts with his practical and 
earnest expositions of the Gospel in its application 
to human needs, I was strongly impressed with the 
contrast between that simple temple, packed with 



56 London. 

living souls all uniting in worship, and tlie dead 
form and lifeless homily of the morning in Westmins- 
ter Abbey, surrounded with 

" The boast of heraldry, the.pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave," 

teaching but the one great lesson, that all 

"Await alike th' inevitable hour— 

The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 

Westminster Abbey was but a majestic sepulchre ; 
the other, was a tabernacle for living worshipers, 
instinct with the love of God as revealed in the 
Gospel, and responded to by loving and trusting 
hearts. Would, that there were thousands of such 
tabernacles in every land. It was good to be there. 

Jiily 31. — Sun shining this morning, but above the 
fog which rests all over London. Sat up late last 
night to write up my journal, and awoke early this 
morning to send it to the dear ones at home, that in 
thought, they may see and travel with us. May God 
bless us all this morning, and keep in our view the 
four things which, as old John Mason said nearly two 
hundred years ago, if the Christian will remember, he 
will grow in grace, namely, to be " humble, thankful, 
watchful, cheerful." 

Went this morning to the American Legation to 
arrange for admission to the House of Lords. In 



London. 57 

afternoon, looked at shops, and priced some articles. 
Saw for tlie first time a Graplioscope. Then went for 
a short time to Regents Park, and saw in part, the 

Zoological and Botanical gardens. At evening W 

came on from Chester, and went to Spurgeon's prayer- 
meeting ; and returning, stopping at the Parliament 
House, he got into the House of Commons through 
the good offices of one of the guards, and heard 
Gladstone, Delsraeli, and Harcourt in debate. He 
returned to the Langham about 2 o'clock in the 
morning, delighted with having gotten into Parlia- 
ment before me. 



CHAPTEE V 



LON^DOX. 



St. Paul's Cathedral. Dome. Golden AV'alk. Extended view of 
London, Crypt. SarcophaiErus of Wellington. Funeral Car. 
Adulation of Rank. Daily Service. Intoning. Tablet to 
Wren. Sidney Smith's Pun. Death of Dean Mansell. Dimen- 
sions of Cathedral. Zoological Gardens— Rare Birds— Animals. 
Twickenham. Pope's Villa. Primrose Hill. Bushy Park. 
Hampton Court Palace. State Apartments. Pictures. Vast 
Grape Vine. House of Lords. Droll Ceremonial. Difficulties 
of Admission. Tower of London— Extent— Associations. Old 
Armor. Knights in Mail. Crown Jewels. 

Tuesday, Aiignst i.— Went with W to St. PauFs 

Cathedral, and spent the day there, viewing the dome, 
choir, nave and transept. We ascended to the clock, 
and great bell weighing over eleven thousand pounds, 
then to the golden walk above the dome, and had 
splendid views of London on all sides. Day very fine. 
Climbed still higher into the ball, but gained nothing 
but the lift and squeeze into the narrow opening. 
Within the dome, as we went down, we stood in the 
whispering gallery, where, at a distance from me of 
one hundred and forty feet, I heard W speak to 



London. 59 

me in a whisper as distinctly as though his mouth 
had been within a few inches of my ear. Descending, 
we went into the crypt and saw the sarcophagus 
which contains the body of Nelson, and also that 
containing the body of the Duke of Wellington. The 
funeral car on which the body of Wellington was 
drawn to the cathedral is placed behind the sarcoph- 
agus. It is of bronze, was draAvn by twelve horses, 
four abreast, and the effigies of four horses abreast are 
now harnessed to the car draped to their feet in a 
velyet pall. The adulation of rank and aristocratic 
distinctions, which is so inbred in the English char- 
acter that, were it possible, it would invest its favorites 
with superhuman eminence, reaches a climax in the 
inscription on the coffin of Wellington: 

"The Most High, Mighty, and Most Noble Prince Arthur. Duke 
and Marquis of Wellington, Marquis of Douro, Earl of Wellington, 
Viscount Wellington of Tallavera and of Wellington, and Baron 
Douro of Wellesley. Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, 
Knight Grand Cross of the Most Honorable Order of the Bath, one 
of her Majesty's Most Honorable Privy Council, and Field-Marshal 
and Commander-in-Chief of her Majesty's Forces. Born 1st May, 
1769 ; Died 14th September, 1853. 

Eeturning to the choir, at 4 P. M., we attended the 
service held daily at that hour, and heard the collect 
intoned, twelve little surpliced boys assisting. The 
officials participating in the service marched in pro- 
cession into the choir, and, at the close, marched out 
in state, preceded by the boys and beadle. The sing- 
ing was good, but the whole affair impressed me 



60 London. 

as utterly lifeless and devoid of spiritual efficacy. 
The choir and east transept of the cathedral are 
wonderfully beautiful, in fact, the whole structure 
is a majestic pile of amazing strength and elegance. 
Sir Christopher Wren, the architect of the cathedral, 
lies buried in the crypt. We saw the tablet in his 
memory. The inscription closes with the Latin word 
''circumspicer which, interpreted in the sentence, 
directs the beholder it he would see Wren's real 
monument, to loolc around. It is said that Sidney 
Smith on seeing this tablet, with his irresi stable 
tendency to punning, read it tlius : ^* If you would 
see Wren's real monument, s ir- come- spy -see^ 

While we were in London, Dean Mansell of St. 
Paul's died suddenly from the rupture of a blood 
vessel at the base of the brain. The great bell was rung 
to signalize the solemn event. So, earthly pageants 
pass away. The entire length of the cathedral is five 
hundred feet; its breadth at the transept two hundred 
and fifty feet; general height of walls ninety feet; 
height to the top of the cross three hundred and 
sixty feet. The church covers over two acres of 
ground. 

Wednesday, August 2. Went w^ith W to 

Eegents Park and spent nearly all day in the Zoologi- 
cal gardens. Here is the largest collection of living 
animals in the world, placed in grounds fitted to 
their wants, and kept in the best condition. Eeptiles, 



London. 61 

fishes, birds and quadrupeds are here represented in 
all their vast variety. I can only note a few of the 
most striking. One of the most brilliant of the birds 
was the Purple Headed Glossy Starling, from West 
Africa, between the size of a robin and a pigeon. 
The eyes look as though they were of burnished gold, 
and the body is a glossy and splendid purple. In the 
seal pond were three seals, so tame that the keeper 
could call them out of the water and they would 
climb into his lap and kiss him, manifesting the most 
remarkable intelligence. They are covered with fur 
and their limbs are shaped as strong webbed paddles, 
with which, however, they manage to waddle after a 
fashion on land. There were two camels, very docile, 
one of them a large Bactrian with two immense 
humps. A very remarkable collection of flamingoes 
held our attention some time. They have a body of 
about the size of a goose, but with necks full four feet 
long, and legs of nearly equal length. Their bodies, 
when they stand, are fully three and a half feet from 
the ground. They are waders. When they are still, 
they stand on one leg, and the other is drawn up so 
that from the thigh to the knee it sticks out behind 
beyond the body, and the part of the leg below the 
knee hangs pendant. And they stand thus also on 
one leg wita the head under the wing when they sleep. 
The pelicans also were very interesting, of great size, 
with large pouches under their bills. The concave 
casqued hornbill was a strange bird. It lives on 



62 London. 

serpents and other reptiles, and its immense bill and 
casque on the head enable it to destroy venemous 
snakes without hazard to itself. There was an im- 
mense boa constrictor. The great ant eater is a 
wonderful animah The head nearly a foot long in 
the form of a large bill, with an opening in the end 
for the protrusion of the tongue, with w^hich it captures 
the ants. Its claws are very powerful, enabling it to 
break into the strong ant hills. It has an immense 
bushy tail with strong hairs to brush off ants from its 
body. The kangaroos w^ere very large and interesting. 
There w^ere two great rhinoceroses, three elephants, 
three camel leopards, and a number of lions, tigers, 
bears of various kinds, etc., etc. The greatest marvel 
of all to us, howTver, were a male and female hippo- 
potamus, swimming in their great tank. These ani- 
mals are extremely rare in collections. They were of 
immense size and wonderful structure. Their heads 
huge as a barrel, and their mouths big enough to. 
take in a whole fork-ful of grass at once. They would 
respond instantly to their keeper, when he asked them 
if they wanted dinner, by lifting their heads above 
w^ater and giving a loud grunt. There was also a very 
large and beautiful ostrich. 

Thursday, August 3. — We tool< cars at Waterloo 
bridge for Kew bridge, then took a fly, to pass 
through Richmond, Twickenham, Teddington and 
Bushy Park to Hampton Court Palace. The day was 



London. 63 

beautiful, being clear and actually hot. In Eichmond 
we saw, in the distance, the park and mansion of 
Earl John Russell. In TAvickenham, we saw the 
house and grounds where Sir Robert Peel lived; also 
Pope's villa, being the grounds and garden on the 
Thames where the poet lived, and wrote most of his 
works. The spot is very beautiful, having fine old 
trees and shrubbery, and soft sylvan views on the 
margin of the Thames. We also saw where Louis 
Phillipe lived after he fled from France; and the 
beautiful grounds and house where his sons, the 
Orleans Princes now live — the eldest. Due de Annale, 
is now in Paris seeking the throne. "We rode over 
Primrose Hill, the seat of Sir Robert Walpole, where 
he wrote his letters so famous in English literature. 
We now reached the grand old horsechestnut trees, in 
a vast avenue of a mile in length with five rows on 
each side, which constitute Bushy Park — a place of 
famous beauty when the old chestnuts are in bloom. 
We saw^ under the trees, droves of London children 
who had come out in pic-nic parties — doubtless some 
schools, with their teachers. Passing through this 
great avenue we reached Hampton Court Palace, 
where the kings of England lived from Henry VIII. 
to George II. This palace was commenced on a scale 
of royal grandeur by Cardinal Wolsey. It was wrested 
from him by bluff old Harry, who lived here with his 
many wives. Here too, lived Charles I., who was 
beheaded ; and, also, Charles II., of profligate memory. 



SJ-f London. 

But the greatest occupant (except Cromwell, who 
lived here for a brief season,) was the Prince of 
Orange, William III. He greatly enlarged and beau- 
tified the palace and grounds. I cannot stop to 
describe the vast old elms on the bank of the Thames, 
eight to ten feet in diameter. In other parts of the 
grounds were yew trees three feet through. The 
Queen's Bower is very beautiful. The great black 
Hamburgh grape vine, now bearing twelve hundred 
and fifty clusters, is one hundred and five years old, 
and covers an area of twenty-two hundred ^ square 
feet. It is under glass. The roots have no border, 
but run under the wide gravel walks. I marvel that 
thus situated it should be so fruitful. The great 
hall, built by Wolsey, is said to have been used for 
the acting of some of the first of Shakespeare's plays. 
The roof of this hall, of old English oak, is of great 
beauty. 

I cannot stop to enumerate tlie many objects of 
rare beauty and interest. It will be suggestive how- 
ever, just to name the apartments, in the long suits 
of rooms, nearly all, adorned with rare and costly 
paintings. The King's Grand Staircase, with most 
elaborate and florid Italian fresco paintings ; the 
King's First Presence Chamber; the Second Presence 
Chamber; the Audience Chamber; the King's Draw- 
ing-room ; King William's Bed -room ; the King's 
Dressing-room ; the King's Writing Closet ; Queen 
Mary's Closet; the Queen's Gallery; the Queen's 



London. 65 

Drawing-room ; the Queen's Audience Chamber ; the 
Public Dining-room ; the Prince of Wales' Presence 
Chamber, Drawing-room and Bed-room ; the Queen's 
Private Chapel, Closet, Drawing-room, and Private 
Chamber ; the South Gallery ; the Mantegnas Gallery ; 
the Queen's Staircase; the Queen's Guard Chamber, 
Presence Chamber, Ante-room, etc. I cannot refer 
particularly, to the king's bed and furniture, the 
queen's bed and furniture, the mirrors, clocks, porce- 
lain, &c. 

The whole number of pictures distributed in the 
various apartments of the Palace is nine hundred and 
twenty-five — some being by old masters. There are 
many portraits which are rare and valuable; but there 
is quite a sufficient number of the pictures, which 
evince the agency in the collection of such profligate 
kings as Charles II. Of the pictures which attracted 
our attention specially in our hasty view, I can name 
but a few. A portrait of William, Prince of Orange, 
afterwards William III.; a portrait of a Jewish Eabbi, 
by Rembrandt ; a sea-port, by Claude ; a portrait of 
Mary, Queen of Scots ; also one of her mother ; also one 
of Queen Elizabeth ; also one of Sir Isaac Newton. 

Friday, August Jf. — Rained some this morning. In 
afternoon went to the British Museum, but, as I am 
to go again, I will not particularize here. In evening 
got into the House of Lords witli W . Was, of 



66 Lfmdon. 

course, greatly interested to see this world renowned 
body in session — the Lord High Chancellor of Eng- 
land presiding, on the woolsack, in gown and wig, 
the golden mace behind him, and the Peers of the 
Eealm on the benches. But, to tell the truth, they 
were a rather sleepy and indifferent set of men. They 
did not debate with any animation, but drawled in a 
listless way a few remarks, first by one, then by an- 
other. Some wore their hats, some were lounging on 
the benches, others walking about. The best looking 
man in the body (I mean intellectually) is the Duke 
of Argyle. As a whole, they were not specially well 
dressed. I ought to say, however, that it is so near 
the close of the session that but a small minority of 
the Peers are now in London. None of the Bishops 
were present this evening. It is an anomaly of the 
British Constitution, that the presence of the Lord 
High Chancellor and two Peers, will constitute a 
quorum. This evening, the body of reporters for the 
press, as seen in their gallery, in numbers, as well as 
intellectual calibre, compared not unfavorably with 
the House on the benches below. There was no 
question of special interest before them to attract a 
larger attendance of the members. When they ad- 
journed, there was a droll ceremonial. The Chancel- 
lor, almost before he had declared the motion to 
adjourn carried, jumped up from the woolsack and 
walked briskly toward the door. The keeper of the 



London. 67 

mace, as if the fate of the kingdom depended on his 
alacrity, instantly seized this gilded symbol of sover- 
eignty, and, holding it before him, swiftly followed 
the Chancellor ; and instantaneously, the keeper of 
the Chancellor's purse, seized an embroidered bag so 
called, and holding that before him, followed the 
bearer of the mace, both keeping as near to the Chan- 
cellor in their rapid exit as though the Constitution 
required them to walk in lock step with him. And 
so, the House of Lords adjourned. 

The obstacles in the way of the admission of spec- 
tators, with which the House of Lords is hedged 
about, seem so strange to an American as to be 
amusing. One would think the Lords dared not 
admit the people to their sittings. You must procure 
a written order for admission from some member of 
the House, or from our Legation, (and the latter is 
limited to two permits a night,) or take the alterna- 
tive, (which most Englishmen and many Americans 
do take,) and stay away. When you have conquered 
this difficulty — by no means slight — and have pro- 
cured an order, you are first seated with the favored 
applicants in a row in the vestibule to take your turn 
for an escort by the guard. When your time comes, 
you are conducted (only two at a time) through long 
passage ways, up flights of stairways, and through 
corridors, being passed from one guard to another — 
many standing as sentinels, or within call, at every 
turn — until at last, you are permitted to enter the 



68 London 

gallery perched high above the Peers, where you may 
look down upon the Upper House. 

Saturday, Augud 5. — Fine day. Went to the 
Tower of London. This is of great interest, so old 
and storied in British annals, so much of the tragic 
in its memorable associations. We were compelled to 
pass through very hastily, as tlirongs are ahvays there. 
I will not attempt to describe the Towers. They 
cover about thirteen acres, with tlie courts, and moat, 
within the walls. We saw^ where Queen Elizabeth 
was confined by bloody Mary ; also where the two 
children of Edward IV. were murdered; also where 
Sir Walter Kaleigh was confined many years, and 
where other noted prisoners were confined — men and 
women. We saw ancient armor of every kind ; 
knights on horseback in full suits of mail; all kinds 
of weapons, offensive and defensive ; also the execu- 
tioner's block, and the identical axe used. We saw 
the spot where Anne Bolyn, and Lady Jane Grey were 
executed. I can not describe the multitude of rare 
things there. The closing sight was a view of the 
crown jewels and regalia of the sovereign of Eng- 
land worn on coronation davs. 



(MI APTEE VI 



LOIs-DON. 



CryBtal Palace, Sydenham. Egyptian, Assyrian, Arabic, Grecian, 
Roman and Moorish Halls. Statues, Paintings, Grounds, 
Fountains, Trees. Preadamite Scenery and Animals. Crowds. 
Fine Band. Artesian well. Exquisite Landscapes. St. Paul's. 
Memorial Sermon by Canon Liddon on Dean Mansell, Old 
Bailey. Smithfleld. Martyrs. St. Bartholomew's. St. Gile's 
Church. Milton's Tomb. Milton's House. Grub Street. Bun- 
hill Fields. "Wesley's Chapel, House and Grave. Middle and 
Inner Temple. Lincoln's Inn. Goldsmith's Grave. House of 
Commons. South Kensington Museum. 

August 5. — 111 afternoon visited the Crystal Palace 
at Sydenliam. We went by cab, the distance about 
•five miles, and had an opportunity to see the part of 
London south of the Thames. The Crystal Palace 
was completed in 1854, for the great international 
exhibition. It is now owned by a company, with 
grounds of some two hundred acres, and is kept as a 
great show place. It is a wonder of itself and would 
repay a week's study of the instructive representa- 
tions of antiquity and ancient art, with its Egjptian, 



70 London. 

Assyrian, Arabic, Grrecian and Eoman Halls. There 
are also many statues and paintings. The illustra- 
tions of natural history in its various departments ; of 
manufactures ; of the styles of dress and furniture in 
different periods ; and the specimens in the geological, 
botanical, and other cabinets, seemed literally num- 
berless; and beside these, there were thousands of 
other things to which I cannot make even a general 
allusion. There is also a hall illustrating Moorish 
architecture in imitation of the Alhambra in Grenada. 
Besides, I was especially interested in the gardens, 
flower-beds, rose circles and borders, and the rare 
and elegant trees and fountains which adorned the 
spacious grounds of the Palace. I saw nothing else- 
where in finer taste, more perfect keeping, or more 
richly embellished. There are luxuriant specimens 
of the cedar of Lebanon, the Deodara cedar, and the 
striking Chilian pine (Auricaria Imbricata.) You 
descend into the grounds on the south from the 
Palace by a succession of elegant terraces. You pass 
fountains and little lakes, with groves, and reaches of 
the softest and most brilliant lawn, till, in the lower 
part of the grounds, you see land, water, and shrubbery 
arranged to present a mimic representation of a pre- 
adamite scene, with effigies in place, of some of the 
gigantic animals which existed in that geologic period. 
These attractions bring vast crowds from London 
almost daily. We heard when there, a concert by 
the Cold Stream Guards, about forty in number. 



London. 71 

W thought it beyond comparison, the finest 

band he ever heard. We returned to the city by 
another road, seeing much of the beauty of the envi- 
rons of London. 

I have not alluded to the artesian well from which 
the enormous supply of water for the fountains and 
lakes in the Palace and gardens is obtained, being 
pumped into a lofty tower from which it is distributed. 
I thought at first that the Thames must have been 
drawn upon to yield the vast supply required ; but 
learned to my great surprise, that all came from an 
artesian well about seven hundred feet deep. I will 
say here, by the way, that the water of the Langham 
Hotel, London, which is used so abundantly for 
drinking, washing, cooking and also for hydraulic 
poiDBT to lift the elevator which takes guests to their 
several floors, is also pumped from an artesian well 
upon the premises. This water is lifted by steam 
into a great reservoir on the roof of the building, and 
is thence distributed for use — the hydraulic pressure 
derived from its elevation in the tank supplying the 
elevating power. 

To recur again to the Crystal Palace. From the 
long balconies on the south front I saw some of the 
finest of English landscapes. The view commanded 
was many miles in area, of exquisite sylvan beauty, 
with ranges of hills, copses of rich shubbery and 
groves, reaches of farm land in grain, and of green 



72 London. 

meadows, and pastures with cattle, and groups of fine 
suburban dwellings, upon which I feasted mj eyes, 
and with which I have filled my memory. 

Sunday, August 6. — Beautiful day. Went with 

W and heard Spurgeon. The Tabernacle is near 

a part of London called the "Elephant and Castle." 
Text 1st Corinthians, yi: 20. Immense attendance. 

Sermon excellent. W greatly pleased with it. I 

will attempt no abstract. There, we found Dr. D. Gr. 

B , of Philadelphia, and Dr. M , of the Foreign 

Mission Eooms, Boston. We may meet Dr. B 

next week in Edinburgh. In the afternoon I went to 
St. Paul's cathedral and heard Canon Liddon. The 
choral service, was drawled out in a wearisome and 
perfunctory monotony of intoning. At last, came the 
the sermon, which was a memorial one for Dean 
Mansell, who died the week prior. The sermon was 
able, and in some parts of marked elegance of diction, 
and precision of thought. Dean Mansell, as a man of 
rare metaphysical acumen, and also of exalted excel- 
lence, was abundantly a-ppreciated by one largely of 
kindred ability and sympathies. The eulogy was 
evidently the fruit of sincere personal regard; and 
the characterization was in the best of taste. Yet, I 
think it is already apparent, that the function of 
Dean Mansell was in intellectual conservatism, rather 
than in the lucid and fruitful explication of truth. 



London. 73 

Still, there may be uses, if not needs, in the spiritual 
cosmos for just such thinkers, to insist with emphasis 
upon caution and limitation in intellectual moyement, 
even though, at times, it may be construed by oppo- 
nents, as admitting weakness in the defences, if not 
virtually surrendering some of the strongholds of 
truth ; for, action, held in check by reaction, to be thus 
in turn awakened to renewed and more determinate 
movement, is the great law of advance in the realms 
of thought, as well as of physics. 

In the evening rested, while W went to hear 

" Tribulation Gumming,^' as some call him, from his 
numerous volumes written upon the fulfillment of the 

prophecies. W returned greatly pleased with the 

naturalness of his expositions of Scripture. 

Monday morning, Atigust 7. — Still pleasant. Eare 

weather for London. Went with W by the old 

Bailey prison — where hundreds have been executed — 
to Smithfield, and stood upon the spot where John 
Eogers, John Bradford, John Philpot, and, (as the 
inscription upon the tablet erected there in memory 
of the martyrs says,) "other servants of God who 
suffered death by fire, for the faith of Ghrist, in the 
years 1555, 1556 and 1557," in the reign of " Bloody 
Mary." Though dead, they still speak for soul free- 
dom. Blessed martyrs ! We saw near by, St. Bar- 
tholomew's church — one of the oldest in London, in 
the simple Norman style of about the time of William 

6 



7^ London. 

the Conqueror. It may have been a century or two 
later, as there are some evidences there of the transi- 
tion to the early English style. Everything breathed 
of the long buried past ; excepting only a young 
couple whom we saw at the altar as we entered, who, 
in the flush of their early youth were being married, 
joining hands as man and wife, with no thought of 
the past, so full were they of the engrossing present. 
So rolls the world. " One generation passeth away 
and another generation cometh." But there is a life 
immortal, if we so live here as to have part in Him 
who is the Resurrection. 

We went gfterward to St. Giles' church, where John 
Milton lies buried, and where Oliver Cromwell was 
married. There is a monument here to Milton, who 
was born in 1608, and died in 1674. We saw a 
picture of Milton's house. It has been torn down to 
make way for a railroad. It was a plain, narrow, city 
house of three stories, and a quaint attic, and with, 
projecting windows in the second and third stories. 
There was a room in the rear of the second story in 
which Milton kept a school. When torn down, the 
lower story was occupied by a dyer, whose sign, as 
seen in the picture, was as follows : "(17) Heaven, 
Dyer, &c., (17.)" Queer, that a man by the name of 
" Heaven" should live in Milton's house. The house 
was built in 1614. The grave of Fox, the martyrolo- 
gist, is also in this church. In a corner of the church 
yard we saw a bastion of the old wall which originally 



London. ' 75 

enclosed the ancient city of London. The tower of 
this old church is over nine hundred years old. How 
plainly we saw on its rugged walls marks of the 
ravages of time, consuming even the stone itself We 
then passed through old " Grub," now " Milton" 
street, a narrow, irregular lane not over twenty-five 
feet wide, mth a few ancient houses still left. Dr. 
Johnson lived in Grub street. We then went to the 
old "Bunhill Fields Burial Ground," on the "city 
road," where the great Dissenters lie buried. We saw 
there, among many others, the graves of John 
Bunyan, Thomas Fowell Buxton, Henry Cromwell, 
Richard Cromwell, Daniel Defoe, (author of Robinson 
Crusoe,) Lady Ann Erskine, Lieutenant General 
Charles Fleetwood, who married the eldest daughter 
of Oliver Cromwell, John Gill, the commentator, 
Nathaniel Lardner, David l^asmith, the founder of 
City Missions, John Owen, Abraham Rees, author of 
the Encyclopedia, John Rippon, Samuel Stennett, 
author of many hymns, John Townsend, founder of 
the deaf and dumb asylum, Isaac Watts, the great 
hymn writer, Alexander Waugh, one of the earliest 
promoters of the London Missionary Society, and 
Susannah Wesley, mother of John and Charles Wes- 
ley of immortal memory. What an encampment of 
the illustrious dead I 

Across the city road from Bunhill Fields, is the 
chapel built by John Wesley in 1777, near the '' old 
Foundery" where Wesleyanism was born in London. 



76 Lfmdo7i. 

In tliis cliapel John Wesley preached until his death. 
He lies buried in the little yard behind it, where also 
is the graye of Dr. Adam Clarke, the commentator. 
The chapel is plain and commodious and will seat 
about fourteen hundred and fifty people. About fifty 
ministers, who have preached here since Wesley's day, 
are buried around the chapel. The front of the gal- 
lery is ornamented with Wesley's crest — the " serpent 
and the dove." I sat in John Wesley's old arm chair. 
The old pulpit in which he preached was cut down 
about five feet a few years since. It originally stood 
as high as the gallery. On the street in front and to 
the south of the chapel is a small brick house, built 
by John Wesley and in which he lived and died. 
We went into the room where his soul was released 
from the body. In the session room, back of the 
chapel, we saw one of the old benches which was used 
in the "Foundery" — where Wesley preached before 
building the chapel. I have been thus minute in 
noting these facts because they illustrate most in- 
structively the rise of great events from apparently 
feeble beginnings. Here originated the mighty move- 
ment which gave modern Methodism to the Christain 
world. 

We then went to the old East India house, where 
Charles Lamb was for many years employed. New 
buildings now stand on the old site. 

We next went to the Middle and Inner Temple, 
where the lawyers at common law, have their inns or 



London. 77 

offices and chambers. Also to Lincoln's Inn, where 
the chancery lawyers have their chambers. We saw 
their chapel, where Dr. Vaughn preaches. Also their 
dining hall and reception parlor. Here, are fine 
paintings of the Lord Chancellors. In the yard, near 
the chapel, is the grave of Oliver Goldsmith, who 
died in one of the rooms in Lincoln's Inn. We saw 
the windows of the room, in the third story. In the 
reception room, near the great dining hall, is a very 
fine full length portrait of William Pitt, the great 
Premier of England during the wars with Napoleon. 
In the evening, we attended the House of Com- 
mons. We did not hear Gladstone or Delsraeli 
speak, although we saw both of them. We came 
away about 12 at night. They sat till 3 o'clock, as we 
learned from the Times in the morning. The House 
of Commons did not then fulfill my expectations. 
But it is toward the close of the session, and every 
one is tired. Gladstone looks worn, and Delsraeli, 
with a very gentlemanly mien, looks like a Jew. 
But transient impressions of the House of Commons 
are of little moment. Here, is the seat of the power 
of Great Britain. This body is the real sovereign, for 
nothing in the kingdom can long resist its will. An 
American should have as deep an interest in its 
historic renown, as an Englishman — for, in the event- 
ful past, the Commons have fought for America and 
the world, as well as for England, many a mighty 



18 London. 

conflict for freedom, and have won many a priceless 
triumph. 

A ugust 8. — Still pleasant and very hot. Engaged 
onr passage home this morning, to sail, Providence 
permitting, September 23, in the Cunard steamer 
"Java." We have thus to engage long beforehand, as 
there are such crowds of Americans that we should 
fail to get good staterooms if we delayed. We then 
went to the South Kensington Museum. Here we 
found a marvelous wealth of paintings, gems, armor, 
medieval furniture, and ten thousand things which 
would all reward attention. London is endless in 
things to see. It is really a world in miniature. 
Spent the evening in a delightful chat with Bishop 
L , in his rooms. 



CHAPTER VII 



SALISBURY TO BRIGHTON. 



London to Salisbury. Three Swans. One of Dickens' Inns. Peru- 
berton. George Herbert's Chapel, House, Lawn. River Avon. 
Picture of Salisbury Spire framed in trees. Beautiful Shrub- 
bery. Wilton Hall. Earl of Pembroke. Vast Wealth. Law 
of Primogeniture. Taxes on Parks and Hunting Forests. 
Peers as Law-makers, Tax Peers. Chalk Downs. Stonehenge. 
Supposed Origin. Salisbury Cathedral. Foundation of Tower. 
Grounds, Age, and Wonderful Beauty of the Pile. Crown 
Prince of Prussia and Wife. Brighton. Charlotte Bronte. 
Grand Hotel. Star Views. English Bathing. F.W.Robertson. 

August 9. — ^Sti^ pleasant and hot; wonderfully fine 
weather for the English harvests which are now in 
full operation. Busy packing up. At 2 P. M. we 
took the train for Salisbury, to see one of the great 
cathedrals, about eighty miles southwest of London. 
It was delightfully restful to get into the cars again 
and have nothing to see but the sweet landscapes of 
England. Arrived in Salisbury at 4:30 and put up at 
the " Three Swans/' a quaint English family hotel. 
Here we realized one of Dickens' scenes. We reached 
the " Three Swans" by winding into a narrow gateway 
between old and twisted brick houses of every shape, 
into a paved court-yard, on one side, the coffee-room 



80 Salishury to Brighton. 

with some flowers in the windows, on another side, the 
kitchen, and the remaining two sides, the sheds, and 
stable. All were studiously clean. The stable door 
was open, and on the inside of it were nailed old horse 
shoes, the heads and tails of squirrels, which whilom 
the " ostler" had conquered on the field in chase, and 
there preserved as trophies and amulets. We were 
conducted by the maid through the bar, or as called 
there, the " tap," and kitchen, up winding and worn 
little stairways, with odd skylights at all angles, to No. 
16, where we foMwdi feather beds, and one little window 
looking down upon the red tile roof oyer 'to the 
"ostler's" barn door. Howeyer all was sweet and 
clean. After supper we took a fly and went to Pem- 
berton, to see the ancient chapel and house where 
George Herbert, the dear old hymn writer, preached, 
and liyed. Here we had a treat. The little chapel is 
yery quaint and old, and the house, across a lane, has 
been enlarged and is now occupied by the rector of a 
neighboring church. This house and the lawn in the 
rear were of exquisite beauty. The window of the 
room which Herbert used as a study opened upon a 
lawn of the rarest charms, bounded at a distance of 
about two hundred feet by the riyer Ayon. That 
crystal riyer ! so swift and yet so still — its bottom 
carpeted with wreathed streamers of watergrass green 
as emerald — its yolume transparent as light, and brim- 
full to the edge of the lawn, where the gliding waters 
seem for an instant to linger and caress the soft grass 



Salisbury to Brighton. 81 

as they hasten by. We came upon the river as a 
surprise, not dreaming of its presence ; but once seen, 
we will ever remember its bright waters in their 
setting of green, all living with motion and grace, 
and yet hushed, as if they feared by even the sound of 
a ripple to break the spell of their charms. An old 
Medlar tree stands on the river bank, which was 
planted by Herbert. It is protected by a zinc cover- 
ing around the trunk from the depredations of 
visitors. The present occupant of the cottage is 
evidently a man of rare taste and considerable means, 
for I never saw a lawn more exquisitely adorned. 
Old elms and beeches stand around on the outlines. 
On the left side an opening is cut in the trees to give 
a distant view of the lofty spire of Salisbury cathedral 
over two miles distant. That spire of stone to the 
top, four hundred feet high, is a very dream of grace 
and beauty; and thus framed in a luxuriant tree 
border, as seen from this lawn, it looks aerial, as some 

celestial, ratlier than earthly vision. W first 

caught the view of this ^^\yq, and for a few moments 
it transfixed him. If he lives, his people will get that 
picture vividly set in word painting. This lawn 
which nestles in my memory as a bit of Eden, is open 
from the old cottage to the river. The grass is like 
green velvet. Inside of the lofty border trees, are 
rare evergreens — the choicest the earth can furnish — 
cedars of Lebanon, Deodara cedars, the Washingtonia 
Gigantica pine, from Califoraia, hollys, myrtles. 



82 Salishury to Bi^igJiton. 

laurels, oaks, yews, and rhododendrons, not to name 

scores of graceful deciduous shrubs the whole 

adorned with beds of brilliant foliage plants and 
flowers, tastefully embroidering the green body of the 
lawn. The whole south wall of the cottage was cov- 
ered by the ever shining ivy, and also two finely- 
trained American magnolia grandifloras, then in 
bloom, and a luxuriant cotoneaster, with its airy 
leaves and coral berries. I have thus attempted to 
give you a glimpse of one of the sweetest of earthly 
visions. 

We rode on to Wilton Hal], the seat of Earl Pem- 
broke. The young Earl is just of age and unmarried* 
He has enormous wealth. We could not go into his 
spacious grounds. A porter met us at the massive 
gateway, stating that he had strict orders to allow no 
strangers to enter. It is a wrong, that England should 
be so nearly monopolized by a few Earls and Grandees. 
Were they compelled to pay — as land-holders are in 
America — anything like a fair tax relative to real 
value, upon the enormous properties held by them in 
parks and hunting-grounds, we should not see a 
country seat like Wilton Hall, of say several thousand 
acres, the very pick in fertility of the whole adjoining 
region, walled in simply to pamper the luxurious ease 
of a stripling Earl. Young Pembroke, as we saw from 
adjulant descriptions in the English papers, had just 
returned from a trip to Ireland, where he has vast 
estates, and where his tenantrv had been convened 



Salisdiiry to Brighton. 88 

for an ovation to their Lord on his majority. His 
condescension in thus meeting with patronizing com- 
placency the laborers whose blood and sinews were 
swelling his great revenues, was specially noted by 
the press. Happy Ireland, to have such non-resident 
proprietors ! Do not think me a Fenian, from this 
philippic. I abhor that folly. But I do think that 
monstrous anomalies are fastened upon Great Britain 
by the unnatural law of primogeniture. If this obsta- 
cle which obstructs the great law of natural distribu- 
tion in the transmission of property from generation 
to generation, were removed, it would not be long ere 
such wastes — so far as the common good is concerned 
— as Wilton close, would either pay its full proportion 
of the public burdens, or be disposed of for the public 
good. I tried in vain, in conversation with gentlemen 
whom I met — one of whom was a lawyer — to learn 
the system upon which lands and ornamental grounds 
are taxed in England. I could not learn that there 
is any general system. The tax on farm lands is 
nearly always paid by the tenant, as additional to 
his rent; a cimning way to conserve the influence of 
tenants in favor of low land taxes. I was told that 
ornamental grounds were made to contribute to the 
public revenue by an assessment of a per centage upon 
their rental; that is, what they might produce if 
rented — not I suppose if rented as farms, for such 
an use of the park of an Earl seems to transcend 
an Englishman's conception — but, probably their 



SJf. ^Salisbury to Brighton. 

imaginary rental, if leased to be used as now occupied. 
All this is doubtless due to the influence of the House 
of Lords, where Peers, horn to be laiv -makers, have 
hedged their great holdings with laws suited only to 
Peers. 

We then went to the village of Wilton, where the 
flrst carpets were made in England, and thus the 
name '• Wilton carpets." We afterward returned to 
our " Three Swans" in Salisbury and had a good 
night's rest. Next morning we took a fly and rode 
eight miles and a half, by old Sarum, across Salisbury 
Plain — where the storied shepherd lived — to-Stone- 
henge. We rode over the great Chalk Downs, passed 
several shepherds with their flocks and shepherd's 
dogs, and had rare views of Avide landscapes, though 
the soil on the chalk is very thin, and the hill sides 
are sterile, until we reached Stooehenge. There, we 
met two gentlemen, one of them doubtless a curate 
of the vicinity, learned in the lore of Stonehenge, and 
he was explaining to his friend the reasons for the 
opinion that this oldest structure in England, rude 
and barbaric as it is, was of Plimnician origin, long 
before the time of the Eoman occupation of Britain. 
He claimed that it w^as not a Druidical temple, but a 
temple for the worship of the sun. As far as we 
could judge we thought the curate's reasons plausible. 
He said that there is a passage in Herodotus referring 
to an account by Diodorus Siculus of an Island to the 
west of Gaul, alwavs covered with mists, which the 



Salishury to Brighton. 85 

Phcenicians visited, and that in the center of the 
island there was a great temple of the sun. In con- 
firmation of his view, the curate pointed to a detached 
stone placed uj^right some hundreds of yards due east 
of the main opening in the great concentric circles of 
enormous stones which with their rude stone entab- 
latures constitute the structure; and he stated that 
to one standing in front of the altar rock within, and 
looking through the opening to the outer stone first 
named, the sun, on the morning of \A\q vernal equinox, 
would be seen to rise precisely over the crown of that 
outer stone. 

We returned to Salisbury and went through the 
cathedral — a wonder of grandeur and beauty. The 
style is the early English, in w^iich all i\\Q old round 
l^orman arches are pointed, and made in graceful 
rising lines ever to lead the eye upw^ard. The nave, 
transepts, aisles, cloisters, lady chapel, choir, and 
chapter house, are all of special interest. The tower 
springs from the center of the church, and rests on 
four lofty columns about eighty feet high. These 
massive columns stand at the corners of intersection 
of the nave with the main transept. They are united 
by arches, on which rest the tower and spire, the top 
of which is lifted to the height of four hundred feet 
from the ground. The foundation of one of these 
columns, from the enormous weight and pressure, has 
yielded, and the tower leans so that the top of the spire 



86 Salisbury to Brighton. 

is twenty-three inches out of the perpendicular. It has 
however remained unmoved for the last two hundred 
years, and means have been employed to strengthen it. 
The grounds about the cathedral are of great extent 
and beauty. Vast elms, centuries old, stand around 
amid wide reaches of lawn, and in the dreamy quiet 
which rests like a charm upon all, you can easily 
imagine them to be mute worshipers. The cathedral 
is four hundred and seventy-three feet long, and the 
width on the main transept over two hundred and 
twenty-nine feet. It was commenced in the year 
1220, but was completed in the following century in 
the reign of Edward III. We may get an impressive 
idea of its age from the fact that between 1228 and 
1869 sixty -one Bishops have succeeded each other in 
the See of Salisbury. There is wonderful grace in 
the varied aspects of the pile, as seen from different 
approaches — all unlike, but all in harmony. The 
west front with its pinnacled towers and lofty gable 
is embroidered with all the magic of gothic tracery, 
and is populous with statues. But the northeast view 
appeared to bring into the greatest unity of impres- 
sion the airy soaring lines which seem literally to 
lift one upward. From this direction you command 
the east end, which presents a facade in the early 
English, of faultless harmony of ornament — also the 
northeastern transept, the great northwestern transept, 
the north porch, the lofty nave, buttressed by flying 



Salisbury to Brighton. 87 

arches whicli spring from the outer wall of the aisles ; 
and high above all, the rising tower lifting upward to 

" The lessening shaft of that aerial spire," 

which seems to utter in mid-heaven the whole celestial 
meaning of the temple. 

In the afternoon we took the train for Brighton, 
which is in the south of England on the Channel, 
and is the great watering place of England. Here 
you will remember, F. W. Eobertson preached, and 
died. Here Charlotte Bronte came with her con- 
sumptive sister, who soon after died. On the train 
we had the honor of riding with young Fritz, the 
Crown Prince of Prussia — heir to the mightiest mon- 
archy of earth — with his wife and children. He is 
an intelligent, fine looking man, and his wife — a 
daughter of Queen Victoria — an unpretentious, young 
and interesting woman. I admired her quiet self- 
j)ossession as she sat in the compartment of the car 
with her children and husband. An absence of all 
self-consciousness — her dress studiously plain and 
without obtrusive ornament. With the mien of a 
lady, it seemed true that in her case the looman was 
elevated above the princess. 

We reached Brighton at 8 P. M., and put up at the 
Grand Hotel — eight stories high, and a showy pile. 
In the evening, which was starlight, we walked on 
the pier and terrace above the bathing beach, among 
crowds of people. We came across a man exhibiting 



88 Salisbury to Brigliton. 

star views with a fine telescope, and had some glimpses 
of the planet Saturn, with one ring very clearly visible, 
and two of the moons. We also saw Arcturus in the 
telescope, and thus had an opportunity to contrast the 
appearance of a fixed star with a planet. The star is 
vastly more brilliant, but is not appreciably magnified. 

In the morning, August 11th, had a grand sea- water 
bath in a bathing house connected with the hotel. 
This bath w^as thoroughly English in all its appoint- 
ments. The sea-water was warmed to about seventy 
degrees. The vat of marble was faultlessly clean, and 
the bath-room and an ante-room connected with it 
were handsomely furnished. Clean towels were laid 
on the head, side, and rim of the marble vat, and eight 
hot towels rolled up so as to retain their warmth, and 
a hot overall, were provided for use after the bath. 
Who but Englishmen would think of such luxurious 
appointments? My bath here was transcendent. 
Brighton is much resorted to by invalids for salt- 
water bathing in the autumn and even winter. This 
may account in a measure for what otherwise would 
seem to be redundant comforts. 

We this morning went to the chapel where F. W. 
Eobertson preached, and to the house — No. 9 Mont- 
pelier Terrace — which he occupied, and where he died. 

These were of rare interest to W , and to me also. 

We were rejoiced to have impressions as to the unhap- 
piness of Eobertson in his family relations, derived by 



Salisbury to Brighton. 89 

us from their cniTency in America, so modified here 
as to be nearly obliterated. We were told by a gentle- 
man who accompanied ns to the chapel — a parishioner 
and intimate acquaintance of Kobertson — that there 
was not the slightest foundation for anything graver 
in his family relations than possibly some want of 

congenial fitness in Mrs. E and inability from 

temperament and antecedent training to enter into 
full sympathy with his lofty and self-sacrificing spirit. 
We regretted that want of time prevented a visit to 
the grave of Kobertson. His vivid discernment and 
grasp of truth, his susceptibility to religious obligation, 
and his lofty devotion to duty so quickened his rare 
genius to the intensest activity, that though he lived 
much, as measured by heart-life, yet his days, how 
few! But his influence will be neither brief or 
feeble. 



CHAPTEE VIII 



BRIGHTON" TO LONDOIS^ 



Ride on Coach Top. Amateur Stage Drivers. Professional Whips. 
Fine Horses. Clever Scotch Guard. English Scenery. Neg- 
lected Hedges and Lands. Passengers Outside. Average 
Englishmen. Smoking— Drinking. Current Politics. London. 
International Exhibition. Prince Albert Memorial. Kew 
Gardens. Palm House. Tropical Forest. Great Heat. Spur- 
geon— Sermon. National Scotch Church. Dr. Gumming, His 
Preaching. 

At the iVlbion Hotels Brigliton, we took our places 
on the outside of a coach and four to ride fifty-two 
miles to London. Whew! what a ride was that, on 
a coach top for six hours, through English land- 
scapes, in these railroad days I This coach route and 
its appointments are unlike anything else known. 
The drivers are amateur young English cockneys of 
wealth who oivn the line and run it at an annual loss 
of some three thousand dollars for the pleasure of 
reigning on the box as professional whips, and thus 
being enabled to " tallc Jioss " from actual experience. 
Our drivers were two of these gents — Captain Cooper 



Brigliton to London, 91 

and Master Smith. No country bnt England grows 
such material. The horses were of rare strain and 
mettle, and were, with harness, and all appointments, 
in perfect condition. The day was brilliant but very 
hot. However we had umbrellas, and some breeze, 
and breezy Englishmen all about us. We sat in the 
best seat of all — on the rear with the guard, a hale 
and interesting old Scotchman, intelligent and clever, 
a veritable " Weller." He had a silvered horn, and 
when we left Brighton, and as we passed through 
every village, and when finally we rode into London, 
he made the welkin ring with his clarion blasts. It 
was altogether a memorable ride. Still I must con- 
fess that the scenery did not equal my anticipations. 
There were many charming landscapes; many well 
built towns and many quaint hamlets ; and besides, our 
way was enlivened by the guard rehearsing, with his 
spicy Scotch accent, the gossip, traditions, and legends 
associated with each locality. It was too, in the height 
of the English harvest. The roads were perfect. But 
there was less luxuriant fertility, and less perfection 
in culture, than I had expected to see. There were 
more neglected hedges, more weedy pastures, more 
tumble-down farm buildings than seemed suitable to 
Old England. Yet withal, perhaps the like in 
interest can seldom elsewhere be seen. 

Our English friends on the coach top smoked 
nearly every inch of the way when they were not 



92 Brighton to London. 

eating or drinking. They were evidently Londoners 
who had taken a rnn to Brighton for a brief vacation, 
and they doubtless felt that they must improve the 
opportunity to have a good time. So with cigars, 
meerschaums, and pocket flasks liberally used, and as 
freely ofiFered, without acceptance however by any but 
the guard — quite I fear to his detriment — they con- 
sumed the time. Conversation turned naturally upon 
current politics, and we had a good opportunity to 
come into contact with average Englishmen. They 
were all to a man, down on Gladstone for abolishing 
purchase by means of the Royal Warrant, and yet 
could not clearly say why. They claimed to be 
liberals; and yet they seemed to think that the hered- 
itary right to the law making power of the aristocracy 
was a vast boon to England, because men were thus 
specially bred to make laws, and therefore, as their 
chief spokesman earnestly claimed, the world had 
never seen elsewhere, such consummate culture and 
ability as were seen in the House of Lords. The 
moral tone of our coach top friends was evidently 
below the average ; for they were far more conversant 
with actors and the stage, than with leading men in 
the realm of mind or morals. 

In London we took our old room at the Langham 
in the sky loft, seven stories up, whence we can look 
down w^ith the birds. 



Brigliton to Jjondon. 9S 

August 12. — Very warm. A dense yellow London 
fog until ten o'clock, tlieii it cleared ujd, and was 
fearfully hot — mercury ninety-two degrees in shade ! 
and has been very high for some days. This is sweaty 

but glorious for the English harvests. W wanted 

to attend to some odds and ends to-day and go over 
some ground a second time to deepen his impressions ; 
and I started off alone. Went to the Eoyal Albert 
Hall, Kensington Gardens, to see the International 
Exhibition. Just opposite the Hall I saw the Prince 
Albert Memorial, which tlie Queen is erecting in 
memory of her loss. This Memorial is as lofty as 
Scott's monument in Edinburgh, and is profusely 
adorned with groups of marble statuary in the highest 
style of art, representing scenes in the life of the 
lamented Prince Consort, relative mainly to the 
great World Exhibition which he inaugurated. The 
cost of its erection must be enormous. The Inter- 
national Exhibition was perfectly bewildering in 
variety, extent, beauty, interest, and every element 
for a great show. Paintings without number and of 
rare finish and cost, of the English, Belgian, and 
Erench Schools ; statuary of great variety and beauty ; 
machinery without end; jewelry, furniture, porcelain, 
cloths, tapestries, laces — an endless list. I gave up 
attempting even a glance, and leaving, went again by 
rail to the Kew Gardens, where I spent the remainder 
of the day. These are the great gardens of rare 



9^ Brighton to London. 

shrubbery of the world. Nearly every evergreen which 
will grow out of the Tropics is here. I engaged one 
of the gardeners to go the round with me, and I 
catechised and learned. I will not attempt any 
description in detail. I saw a coffee tree, a tea plant, 
and in the great Palm House a wilderness of tropical 
vegetation. Palms with leaves over tioenty feet long. 
I also saw a mahogany tree, a bamboo tree, and a 
cocoa palm. This vast Palm House doubtless gives 
one as vivid an idea of the wonders of Tropical vege- 
tation as can possibly be obtained out of the Tropics. 
You can ascend spiral stairways to the lofty galleries 
which run around the building, and from thence you 
may look down upon the strangely varied and beauti- 
ful forest below. I lamen ted the want of time and 
strength leisurely to study this new world to my view. 
But the heat under the glass was nearly intolerable. 
I will state here that I never in my life suffered more 
from heat than to-day in these gardens. I was told 
the mercury stood at ninety-two degrees. The sun 
seemed literally to smite one. I was afraid to venture 
into the sunshine without the shield of an umbrella. 
Doubtless the great length of the summer day in this 
high latitude augments the sun's power. 

In the evening, again at the Langham. W is 

now asleep. It is 12 o'clock and I ought to be asleep ; 
but have been intent upon bringing up all arrearages 
in my journal. Have just received in a package the 



Brigliton to London. 95 

last delightful letters of my dear wife and children at 
home ; and now I will thankfully bid you good-night, 
trusting that I may have after rest, a profitable 
Sabbath, which indeed has now begun. 

Sunday morning , August 13. — Again sunny and no 
rain. The Lord doubtless intends this for harvest 
w^eather. It continues intensely hot. He has opened 
His hand, to satisfy the desires of the millions of His 
creatures here. I weut in the morning to the Taber- 
nacle, near the "Elephant and Castle,"' and again 

heard Spurgeon. W went to hear Archbishop 

Manning, the great pervert to Komanism, he wished 
to know what such a man could say, that he might 
learn the animus, and be prepared as a minister to 
deal with such errors, in this day, when atrocious 
delusions seem to be as abundant as is the light. 

Spurgeon's text was in Psalms civ : 17, 18 : " Where 
the birds make their nests ; as for the stork, the fir 
trees are her house. The high hills are a refuge for 
the wild goats, and the rocks for the conies." There 
was a great attendance notwithstanding the extreme 
heat, and that multitudes are now out of London in 
the country. The sermon was as simple as possible. 
His first observation was " that for all dwelling places 
there were provided by G-od appropriate creatures. 
Second — that for all creatures God had provided 
appropriate dwelling places. Third — that the place 



96 Brighton to London. 

where God had given each creature a shelter and a 
refuge is precisely the place for such creature." His 
closing remark was yery suggestive. It was this : — 
" When the Lord provides the fir trees for the stork, 
and the hills for the goats, and the rocks for the 
conies; neither stork, or goat, or cony, begin to doubt, 
and hesitate, as to their right to enter the refuge pro- 
vided. They at once ajjpropriate it, and find their 
true home. But when Christ is offered to the crea- 
ture man, as the refuge and home of the soul, he 
begins to doubt and hesitate, and say ' Christ cannot 
be intended for me ; I am not worthy of such a Refuge,' 
and thus multitudes fail of the great salvationP 

W has just come in. He did not hear Man- 
ning, but did hear Spurgeon, and was delighted. 

In the evening went to the National Scotch Church, 
Crown Court, Drury Lane, and heard the noted Dr. 
Cumming preach, who has written so much upon the 
prophecies. He is a Scotchman and his church is 
almost wholly composed of Scotchmen resident in 
London. There was not a large audience, owing 
doubtless to the extreme heat. The church I should 
think will not hold over eight hundred, and is not 
easy of access, being in a narrow court, off from a 
narrow street, or lane. The text was from Jude, part 
of the third vers3 : " The common salvation." The 
manner of Dr. Cumming is very pleasing. He has an 
air of gentle cultured tenderness; his Scotch accent 



Brighton to London. 97 

is just discernible ; liis enunciation distinct ; his voice 
musical and deliberate; and his style of utterance 
conyersational. N'othing could be more simple and 
effortless than his practical exposition of the freeness, 
adequacy, and accessibility to all, of the common 
salyation as a gift of God, like the air and sunlight, 
which we have only to accept. It may ever be had for 
the asking. His illustrations were very familiar, and 
the sermon altogether was a first class exhortation. 



CHAPTEE IX. 



LONDON AND OXFORD. 



Chalk Region. Elms in English Landscapes. The Thames above 
London. Hounslow. Reading. Oxford. Colleges and^ Halls. 
Great Bell. Pusey. Portraits. Beauty of Grounds. Deer in 
Park, Addison's Walk. Noted Graduates. Martyr's Memo- 
rial. London. The Commons. Horse-Shed for Members. 
Great Debate on the Royal Warrant in Abolishing Purchase. 
Fawcett, Harcourt. Gladstone. Westminster Hall and 
Statues. Statues in Parliament Houses. Statue of Oliver 
Cromwell. 

August IJf. — Very pleasant, and quite a cool breeze, 
relieving the extreme lieat of yesterday, when the 
thermometer reached ninety-one degrees in London 
in the shade. Started at 10 A. M. for Oxford, about 
fifty-two miles distant. The country nearly all the 
way a chalk formation. The soil not deep or very 
fertile, but easily wrought, and apparently well 
adapted to wheat and oats, of which we saw large 
quantities in the fields, and being harvested. A 
marked and beautiful peculiarity of English land- 
scapes is the abundance of elms planted in the hedge- 
row^s, and on the lines marking the boundaries of 



London and Oxford. 99 

fields. These trees, to prevent their shading the 
growing crops too much, are trimmed up for about 
forty feet and then the tops are allowed to grow. 
The trunks also, where trimmed, become wreathed in 
short branches and are often green with iyj. These 
long lines of dark English elms standing like faithful 
sentinels in eyery direction, giye a charming eifect to 
the yiews on all sides. The country between London 
and Oxford is yery leyel. We followed up the Thames 
wiiich soon after leaying London became a quiet and 
rural riyer, not so large as our Cuyahoga, but sylyan 
in its banks and meadow stretches, and abounding in 
islands. At Oxford the Isis and Cherwell, tiyo smaller 
streams, unite and form the Thames. On our way 
we had a distant yiew of Windsor Castle, the present 
royal residence, near London. We also passed 
through Hounslow, where Cromwell encamped his 
army after his victories oyer Charles I. Also we 
passed through Reading, where Laud was born. 

Reached Oxford about noon. Bought guide books 
and engaged a guide to show us the great city of 
colleges; and we at once entered upon our tramp. 
There are in Oxford tiventy-three endowed colleges ; 
all haying separate grounds and buildings, and most 
of them chapels, dining halls and libraries. There are 
besides these in the city, fourteen Halls, so called, or 
unendowed schools, in many respects equal to the 
colleges, and many of the Halls also haying fine 
grounds and buildings. There is quite a large 



100 London and Oxford. 

cathedral in the city; but they are repairing it, and 
we could not get in. These colleges were founded 
successively between 1149 and 1714. Most of them 
are four to six hundred years old. They are all built 
of a light sandstone, obtained in the neighborhood, 
which crumbles through exposure so rapidly that the 
buildings look (although of solid stone) as though 
they were built of poor crumbling plaster. In some 
places I could push the end of my umbrella into the 
decaying walls and pillars as though they had been 
sand and lime. We were bewildered with the extent 
of the colleges, as we went through one after another; 
all in some respects resembling the others, but some 
having much larger and more beautiful grounds. All 
the colleges taken together constitute the University 
of Oxford, which elects a member to the House of 
Commons. I can not particularize the buildings 
further than- to note some special details. It is 
claimed that the oldest college was founded by King 
Alfred the Great. It is said also that Christ Church 
college was founded by Cardinal Wolsey. In the 
tower of this college is the largest bell, with one 
exception, in England ; it weighs over seven and a 
half tons. The famous Pusey resides in this college. 
In the great dining hall are portraits of Lord Mans- 
field, 1756; Cardinal Wolsey, 1526; Henry VIIL, 
1547; Queen Elizabetli, 1561; George Canning, 1827, 
and many others. There is also the chair of Henry 
VIIL, the seat looks very narrow for his burly form. 



London and Oxford. 101 

The most beautifnl college of all is the Magdalen, 
said to have been founded in 1447. The buildings 
however are not of that age. The grounds are very 
large and of exquisite beauty. The river Cherwell 
runs through them. There is a large park with 
exquisite old elms standing thickly on the soft green 
sward, and w^e saw there a herd of at least fifty deer 
and fawns, quietly feeding and some of them resting 
directly under the windows of the building. In these 
grounds is the famous Addison's Walk. You have 
at home a stereoscopic view ot it. Addison was a 
graduate of this college. The chapel of this college 
is of great beauty. The east wall is crowTled with 
some forty statues in niches ; and behind the altar 
there is a large painting, nearly three centuries old, by 
one of the old masters, of Christ bearing the cross, 
which is said to be valued at fifty thousand dollars. 
The paintings we saw in the halls of other colleges, 
many of them rare and costly, were very numerous. 
We went through the w^orld renowned Bodleian 
Library, but had time only for a glance at its vast 
extent and rare treasures. 

A host of eminent men have graduated from the 
colleges in Oxford. I can name but a few: Dr. 
Samuel Johnson; George Whitfield ; the poet Shen- 
stone, from Pembroke College; Sir Philip Sidney; 
Ben Johnson ; John Wesley ; William Penn ; John 
Locke ; Lord Bolingbroke ; Mr. Gladstone, the present 
Premier; J. Ruskin, from Christ Church college; 



10^ London and Oxford. 

Butler, the author of the Analogy ; Sir Walter Ealeigli ; 
Eichard Whately, from Ariel college ; John Hooper, 
the martyr ; Wickliffe, the translator of the Bible into 
English, from Merton college; Fox, the martyrologist ; 
Hampden, from Magdalen college; F. W. Kobertson, 
from Brasinose; Archdeacon Philpot, the mart3rr. 
burnt in Smithfield in 1555, from New college ; Sir 
Christopher Wren, from Wadham college ; Lord Chat- 
ham ; Lord North, from Trinity college, and Adam 
Smith, from Baliol college. The Martyrs Memorial 
in Oxford, erected in commemoration of Archbishop 
Cranmer and Bishops Kidley and Latimer, who were 
tried, condemned, and burned at the stake in this 
city, for their adherence to the truth, is of the highest 
interest. The pile is seventy-three feet in height, 
of admirable proportions, and contains statues by 
Weekes of each of the martyred prelates. Nothing 
in Oxford surpasses this Memorial in the appropriate- 
ness and harmony of its adornments, or in its historic 
significance. Eeturned to London in the evening. 

London, August 15. — Beautiful day. In afternoon 
attended the House of Commons. A novel feature 
attracts one's attention in the court yard from which 
you enter the Parliament Houses, namely, an open 
horse-shed, a short distance to the right of the great 
entrance hall. This shed, which is nearly as primi- 
tive as those provided for our rural churches in 
America, is supplied for the horses on which members 



London and Oxford. 103 

in attendance have ridden. The Iron Dul^e, I believe, 
generally rode to Parliament on horseback ; and you 
will remember that Sir Robert Peel was killed by a 
fall from his horse, shortly after an attendance in 
Parliament. 

The debate in the Commons this evening was 
expected to be of nnnsual interest; as it had been 
understood that the Government would now explain 
the grounds upon which it had abolished Purchase, 
by means of the Royal Warrant. In this, we were 
not disappointed. The debate was opened by Mr. 
Fawcett, the member for Brighton, who attacked the 
government w^ith considerable severity for advising 
the Queen to abrogate by Royal Warrant the system 
of purchase of commissions in the army and navy; 
declaiming against the exercise of a 'RojoX jjrerogative, 
as he persisted in calling it, and insisting that the 
matter had better have remained where it was, until 
Parliament should by statute effect a change. I will 
here explain that some weeks previous to this a bill had 
passed the House of Commons, abolishing purchase, 
but it was unceremoniously thrown out in the House 
of Lords. Furcliase is a very favorite matter with the 
Lords ; for they have many younger sons for whom 
they wish to provide commissions in the public 
service, which will give them permanent rank and 
support. The Attorney General then replied to 
Faw^cett, stating that the Queen had not resorted to 
prerogative ; but that she was clothed with the special 



10 Jf London and Oxford. 

power she had used, by the statute of 1809, relative to 
the matter ; and that she had acted simply under that 
law by the advice of her ministers, to correct a great 
public wrong. Mr. Vernon Harcourt, member for 
Oxford, then replied to the Attorney General; reiter- 
ating the charges of Fawcett, and calling upon the 
Premier to avow the ground he held, in the matter. 
It was very remarkable, that both in Fawcett's and 
Harcourt's speeches, it was gravely stated on the floor 
of the House of Commons, that strong currents of 
public opinion were setting in for the radical recon- 
struction of the House of Lords itself. These mem- 
bers, while the Lords were in session in another wing 
of the Parliament House, not only assumed in open 
debate that it was but a question of time when the 
Upper House would be reconstructed ; but they took 
the occasion to ventilate their views as to the best 
method of doing it; and Mr. Fawcett especially, 
hastened to give his ideal of a truly reformed House 
of Lords — an ideal which would strike an American 
familiar with the working of free suffrage, as practi- 
cally Utopian. In this debate, neither Fawcett or 
Harcourt seemed to me to stand in the front rank 
in a great deliberative body. Their speeches had 
evidently been carefully prepared, and were ambitious, 
not to say actually stilted in style, and were delivered 
quite artificially, with little naturalness of action, and 
with much monotony of tone. Their historical cita- 
tions as to the use of the Royal prerogative, savored 



London and Oxford. 105 

more of declamation for popular effect, than of a 
discriminating application to the present question. 
These attacks called the Premier, Mr. Gladstone, to 
his feet, and I was fortunate in hearing from him a 
masterly, and as it seemed to me, triumphant defence 
of the government. As he claimed, the act of the 
Queen was not the use of a Koyal prerogative at all, 
in the inviduous historical sense as an exercise of 
a power by the Crown abridging popular freedom. 
On the contrary the act was wholly in the interest of 
freedom ; and instead of enlarging, it actually limited 
— nay, it in fact abdicated — a power with Avhich the 
Crown had been clothed by the act of Parliament of 
1809. He admitted that it would have been greatly 
better if purchase had been directly abolished by act 
of Parliament; thus providing more equitably for 
every case of special hardship which might arise. 
But after the Government had done its utmost to 
accomplish this, and had procured the passage of a 
bill for this purpose by a great majority in the 
Commons, the Lords had summarily thrown it out on 
the second reading. There was no alternative then, 
but acqniescence in the continuance of a monstrous 
public wrong, disastrous in its influence upon the 
army and navy, or its abolition through the exercise 
of the discretion given to the Crown, and by which 
the Queen had declared that she would no longer 
sanction a suspension of the act of 1809, as to pur- 
chase in the army and navy ; but would relegate such 



106 Lonihm and Oxford. 

piTrchase to the penalties and disabilities affixed to 
purchase in all other cases by that act. In his allusion 
to the Lords, Mr. Gladstone, with courtesy but great 
emphasis, insisted upon the extreme unwisdom of 
their course ; but while alluding to the references in 
the debate to a reconstruction of that House, he dex- 
terously avoided any utterance which would commit 
the Government. The speech was in excellent temper 
and was an admirable exhibition of the readiness, 
range, and grasp of a practiced and powerful debater. 
Gladstone is assailed on all sides, but though he may 
be overborne, his sympathies are stronglv with the 
people, and in the end he will triumph ; or rather, his 
principles will. 

The great entrance to the Parliament Houses is 
through old AVestminster Hall, where Charles I. was 
tried, and also Warren Hastings. This is said to be 
the largest single room unsupported by columns in 
the world. The roof although built in the time of 
Henry VIH. is of great architectural beauty. In this 
room there are life-size marble statues of James L, 
Charles I., Charles II., William III. and Queen Mary 
his wife, William IV., and George IV. In the new 
Hall of the Parliament Houses are full size marble 
statues of great beauty and doubtless faithful like- 
nesses, of Hampden, Clarendon, Falkland, Selden, 
Walpole, Sowers, Chatham, Mansfield, Pitt, Fox, 
Burke and Grattan. 



London and Oxford. 107 

Across the street from the Parliament Houses, and 
facing them, a life-size marble statue of Oliver 
Cromwell has just been set up. His back is toward 
Westminster Abbey — where England honors her dis- 
tinguished dead by statues and memorial tablets; but 
where no place has been assigned to as great a man 
as England eyer knew. It is far more fitting however 
that he should now stand in deference to a healthful 
reaction in the public mind, facing the entrance of 
the House of Commons, which he was a main instru- 
ment in making the dominant force in the English 
constitution. The statue is by a Mr. Noble, and 
nobly it is done. Old Oliver stands like a tower of 
strength, as though on the battle-field, directing the 
movement of his forces. He is bare-headed — his 
broad brimmed military hat having fallen behind 
him — his right hand leans on his sword, and his left 
is partially raised, as if about to give direction to his 
army. His head and face are instinct with the 
expression of broad-hearted intellect, conscious re- 
sponsibility, and indomitable will. I have seen no 
marble image so full of the highest type of human 
power and life. 



CHAPTER X 



LONDOX AXD CAMBRIDGE. 



Westminster Abbey. British Museum— Vast Extent and^Variety. 
Rossetta Stone. Terra Cotta Tablets Six Centuries before 
Christ. Typographical Curiosities. Alexandrine Manuscript. 
Old Copies of Shakespeare. Steamboat before Watt. Cheap 
Clothing. Cambridge. Red Lion. The Bull, or Commercial 
versus Family Hotel. Roof-Raisers. Cleanliness of Environs 
of London. Christ's Church School, London. Dress of Boys. 
Colleges in Cambridge. Officials. King's College Chapel. 
Trinity College. Sir Isaac Newton. Library. Statues. Relics. 
Milton. Robert Hall. 

August 16. — Beautiful day, and comfortable tem- 
perature. Made some purchases in the morning, and 
in the afternoon I went again for a short time to 
Westminster Abbey. I shall attempt no description 
of this majestic mausoleum. It is of the finest English 
(jrothic ; its nave and transepts, with their lofty ceiling 
adorned with an endless tracery of groined and grace- 
ful arches, its stained windows, its vast stone columns, 
bearing up as if light as air, the mighty weight of the 
stone roof; and then crowded along all its aisles, the 
clustering statues and memorials of the dead— sail 



Loyidon and Camhridge. 109 

blend to fix attention in solemn musing upon the 
great j^ast, amid the roar of present London life rush- 
ing around this mighty sepulchre. 

Afterward I went again to the British Museum. I 
can only refer briefly to this marvelous assemblage of 
the most rare and costly and precious illustrations of 
history in all its branches, natural, civil and religious, 
and of the civilizatiou, customs and arts of every great 
race, and in nearly every age of the world. Here are 
the Assyrian sculptures and tablets taken by Layard 
from Ninevah. Here is the priceless Rossetta stone, 
which gave the clue by Avhich the multitudinous 
inscriptions in cuniform character have been deci- 
phered and read, throwing floods of light upon Old 
Testament history; here are tablets in terra cotta, 
dated about six hundred and fifty years beibre Christ, 
attesting the sale of a slave girl, Arbaci Khirat, and 
others, of about the same date, attesting the exchange 
of slaves. Here are Grecian statues, and capitals, 
pediments and parts of columns from Grecian temples 
at Athens, and elsewhere. Here are Eoman statues 
and busts. Here are Egyptian tombs, and the dead 
embalmed and laid in them, but now brought to 
light after thousands of years, and their names and 
offices discovered. Here are endless illustrations of 
natural history in all departments, mineral, vegetable, 
and animal, both as to the fossil ages, and present 
forms of life. Here are humming birds of a hundred 
species ; the English nightingale, and the great bird 



110 London and Ccmibridge. 

of paradise. Here are manuscripts of rarest value, — 
such as the writing of Queen Elizabeth, — of the 
author of the Junius letters, — of John Locke, Shakes- 
peare, Cromwell, Milton, Pope, Johnson, Coleridge, 
Byron, Macaulay, Burns, Isaac Newton, Franklin, 
Washington, Addison, Nelson, Melancthon, Martin 
Luther, and John Calvin. Here is the famous and 
priceless Alexandrine manuscript of the Bible, written 
on parchment in Greek about the middle of the fifth 
century. Here are specimens of the earliest printing, 
from 1455 to 1695. Here are typographical curiosities, 
sue a as an English Bible given to Henry VIII. in 
1540. Here are copies of Shakespeare's plays, entitled 
"An excellent conceited Tragedie of Eomeo and Juliet, 
as it hath been often (wdth great applause) plaid pub- 
liquely, by the right Honorable the L. of Humfdon his 
servants, 1595." Another, entitled "Most pleasant 
and excellent conceited comedy of Sir John Falstaffe, 
and the Merry Wives of Windsor, with the swaggering 
vaine of Ancient Pistoll, and Corporall Nym. Writ- 
ten by W. Shakespeare, 1619." I also saw here an 
old work attesting the application of steam to proj)el- 
ling boats, long before the day of James Watt, who, as 
the tradition runs, had the idea of the poAver of steam 
suggested to him by seeing it raise the lid of his 
mother's tea-kettle. The book I refer to is entitled 
"Description and Br aught of a New Invented Ma- 
chine for carrying Vessels or Ships out of or into any 
harbour, Port or River, against Wind and Tide — By 



London and Cambridge. Ill 

Jonathan Hulls, 1737." — with drawings of the boat, 
and a stern paddle wheel, and steam represented as 
escaping from a funnel amidships. Here also are 
casts in wax of the great seals, from three to six 
inches in diameter, of all the kings of England, from 
King John to George L, and also great Baronial and 
Ecclesiastical seals. These were rude methods in those 
medieyal days of attesting royal grants, and charters, 
and instruments by which rights were conferred, or 
property transferred. 

August 17. — Still pleasant, but cooler. Busy in 

forenoon with W shoj^ping in London. W 

has just purchased a traveling coat, pants, and vest, 
of very fair woolen cloth, made to order, having been 
measured for them, for about thirteen dollars gold, all 
told! and they are an excellent fit. What think 
you of that — ye patrons of Cleveland tailors ? 

In the afternoon we started by train for Cambridge, 
about fifty-five miles northerly of London. We arrived 
at 7 P. M., and had quite a ludicrous search for a hotel. 
On inquiring we learned that the ^'Commercial" hotel 
(I give the terms used) was the " Red Lion," and the 
" Family " hotel was the " Bull," — the latter the more 
select and charges higher. I inclined to the " Bull," 

but W , in a spasm of economy, inclined to the 

" Eed Lion." Desiring to encourage economy, I yielded 
and we posted on the buss for the '' Lion." On the 
way we passed the "Bull," and W said "Lion." 



112 London and Camlridge, 

Soon we came to the ^' Lion," and then W said 

"Bull/' but too late for consistency. So we entered 
the " Lion," finding troops of young men hanging 
round. However we soon got fair rooms, and a good 

supper, and tired W has gone to sleep, having had 

the feather bed changed. I am posting the journal 
at 10:20 P. M., fresh and hale as a good supper and 
ginger beer would naturally make me. Meanwhile 
the young men hanging round, turn out to be a club 
of "• Eoof-Raisers," and they are having a supper and 
songs, and are filling the house with the sound of 
their merriment. 

The country as we left London for thirty miles, was 
surpassingly beautiful. Green and sylvan adorned 
with hill and vale and endless lines of elms, and lanes 
bordered with hedges, with fine roads and frequent 
streams. We struck the chalk formation about 
twenty miles from Cambridge, when the soil became 
thinner, and Cambridge we found on a perfectly flat 
chalk plain. One thing is very remarkable relative 
to the environs of London. On whatever side we 
have left the great city, we enter at once into the 
sweet, pure country air, with no crossing of nauseous 
and fetid manufacturing regions, poisoning the air 
with smells offensive to the sense and health. London 
is certainly a very clean city. By the way, just as we 
left the city we saw one of the boys belonging to the 
'' Christ's Church" London school, where Coleridge 
and Lamb attended when young. I refer to this boy 



London and Cambridge. IIS 

to describe the uniform. They go hare-lieaded, have 
a long cloth coat or cossack reaching to the ankles, 
and bound with a girdle at the waist, and short 
trousers to the knee, and tight bright yellow drawers 
from the knee to the shoes. This school has a great 
property — worth millions — in the very heart of Old 
London, the fruit of donations centuries ago. But 
good night. I will go to sleep if the roaring "■ Roof- 
Raisers'' will let me. 

August 18. — Bright morning and pleasant temper- 
ature, though it rained a little in the night. Slept 
nicely after the " Roof-Raisers'' ceased their carousal. 
They broke up about 12 o'clock, and from the disgrace- 
ful uproar they made in the street I judge that half 
of them were drunk and the balance tipsy. These 
carousals are ruinous to young men. 

After breakfast, procured a guide and entered upon 
our tour of the colleges of Cambridge University 
These colleges are seventeen in number, and each, 
while independent and having its own Master or 
Head, is subject to the laws of the University, in the 
government of which all have a voice. The principal 
officer nominally is the Chancellor ; but actually the 
Vice Chancellor, who is elected each year from one 
of the Heads of the colleges, and becomes thus for a 
year " the governor of this literary commonwealth." 
These facts I derived nearly as stated from the Guide 
Book ; and also the names of other subordinate 



ii^ London and Camhridge. 

officials, which sound strangely to our American ears. 
For instance, the three Esquire Beadles, who on public 
occasions precede the Vice Chancellor, each bearing a 
massive silver mace. There are also two Proctors, a 
Public Orator, and Syndics, who have special duties 
as University officials. Each college has its Fellows, 
" who are maintained by the revenues of the Founda- 
tion." Among the Undergraduates there are Pen- 
sioners, who — contrary to the idea naturally suggested 
by the word — are regular students who pay their 
way; then there are Scholars, who are elected on 
examination, and who have monied aid ; andr Sizars^ 
who "have their commons free, and receive various 
emoluments.'' 

Cambridge contains not far from thirty thousand 
people. It is a quaint old town with narrow and 
winding streets, and mainly, old tile-roofed houses. I 
shall make only a few desultory references to the col- 
leges — noting some jDarticulars. More than this, with 
but a few hours examination would be impracticable, 

Pembroke College was founded in 1367. Eogers, 
Bradley and Eidley — three martyrs — were all of this 
college. Here is a marble bust of William Pitt, by 
Chantrey. Pitt was a graduate of Pembroke. The 
combination room, (where the fellows, after dinner, 
meet to take their dessert and wine,) contains a por- 
trait of the poet Spencer, one of William Pitt, and 
one of the poet Gray — author of the Elegy. 



London and Cambridge. 115 

Queen's College was founded in 1448. Erasmus 
was during liis stay in England, a resident in this 
college, and his room is pointed out. 

King's College was founded in 1443. It is chiefly 
remarkable for its chapel, completed by Henry VIII* 
This is one of the most beautiful and noted buildings 
in the perpendicular Gothic style in the world — a 
marvel of grace, harmony and grandeur. Its length 
is three hundred and sixteen feet, its breadth eighty- 
four feet, and the height inside from pavement to the 
stone ceiling fully eighty feet. There are no aisles — 
the whole being one long nave, with twenty-five 
immense stained glass windows, of the age of Henry 
VIII., in the most gorgeous style of coloring and 
perfectness in the scenic subjects vividly portrayed. 
The ceiling is of stone wrought with faultless skill 
into groined arches in fan tracery, with pendants, or 
keystones, each weighing a ton ; and yet this ceiling 
of enormous weight, spanning the entire width, with 
no support but the side walls, and stretching in length 
over three hundred feet in one amazing perspective, 
is borne up with a grace and harmony of combination 
as though it were light as air. Henry VIII., in a 
beautiful screen of carved oak erected by him at the 
entrance to the choir in i\\^ nave, combined the 
insignia and initials of Anne Boleyn, with his own. 
How cruelly on his part they were soon after sundered. 
I shall bring liome views of this interior and also 
exterior. 



116 London and Cambridge. 

Trinity College, wliicli stands peeiipss amid its 
fellows, was founded in 1324. Sir Isaac Newton was 
a graduate of this college ; and his rooms, and the 
tower which he used as an observatory, over the main 
entrance to the great court, are still preserved. The 
great dining hall contains portraits of Sir Isaac New- 
ton, Lord Chief Justice Coke, Lord Bacon and Johu 
Dryden, all of whom were graduates of Trinity. The 
great library interested me much more than the 
famous Bodliean, o± Oxford. You have at home a 
stereoscopic view of its interior. In this library are 
seen the telescope which Sir Isaac Newton use'd. It is 
of oak, an octagonal cylinder — about eight inches in 
diameter by six feet long — and has a metalic reflector. 
Here are also the globe and mathematical instruments 
which Newton used. Thei'e are also two locks of his 
hair, silver white and soft — taken after death when he 
was nearly ninety. Also a plaster ctist of his face 
taken after death, and a very spirited marble bust of 
him when about lifty, by Eoubiliac. Here also is a 
life size marble statue of Byron (who was a graduate 
of Trinity) by Thorwaldsen. Macauley was also a 
graduate of Trinity, and also Tennyson, of whom 
there is a marble bust here. There are some rare 
curiosities in this library. Among others the wooden 
comb used by Henry A^III., about eight inches long- 
by six inches wide. Also a book of which but one 
other copy is extant, entitled " The Passionate Pil- 
grime, by W. Shakespeare — London 1599.'' Also the 



London and Cambridge. 117 

original of an Indulgence granted to :N"athan Hickman, 
and to his relations to the second degree inclusive, 
and also to twenty-five other persons to be named by 
him on certain conditions — by Pope Clement XII. 
The telescope which ISTewton used, above referred 
to, has a brass tablet on it with this inscription, 
" Gr. Harue, London. Fecit."' In this library is also 
the original manuscript in part, in Milton's writing 
of ''Paradise Lost." 

St. John's College ; founded in 1510. Henry Kirke 
White, and William Wordsworth, were graduates of 
this college. Jesus' College founded in 1497. Arch- 
bishop Cranmer, burnt at the stake in Oxford in 
1556, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge graduated from 
this college. We saw the room Coleridge occupied, 
Christ's College was founded in 1505. Dr. Paley and 
John Milton were graduates from this college. In 
the beautiful garden of the college we saw the noted 
mulberry tree planted by Milton in 1633. It is still 
green and is bearing fruit abundantly. We plucked 
leaves from it. It gives evidence of its great age. 

Kobert Hall was once pastor of the Baptist church 
in Cambridge. We visited the chapel on St. Andrews, 
street, which was once filled with admiring throngs 
attending upon his preaching; and we saw the lecture 
room in which he so often suficred from his dreadful 
spinal trouble, and frequently smoked to soothe the 
pain before going into the pulpit. 



CHAPTEE XI 



ELY TO EDINBURGH. 



Ely Cathedral. In the Fens. Age, Style, and Great Beauty. Lady 
Chapel. Costly Adornments. Great Norman Tower. Peter- 
borough Cathedral— Its Staff. York. Ancient Hotel. The City. 
Old Wall. Roman Associations. St. Mary's Abbey. Blind 
Asylum. Beautiful Crown Land. York Minster— Service- 
Sermon. Form. Baptist Chapel and Preacher. Trouble at 
the Black Swan Hotel. Museum. Magnificent View from 
Cathedral Tower. Oscillation of Rail Cars. Berwick on Tweed. 
Scotland. Edinburgh. 

Left Cambridge about 5 o'clock, and came to Ely — 
about twenty miles northerly — one of the oldest 
cathedral towns in England. Arriyed about 6:50, and 
put up at the Lamb Hotel. Got into the cathedral a 
few moments in the long twilight, and w^e are to go 
again by appointment at 7:30 in the morning. 

Aiigust 19. — Beautiful morning. Went to the 
cathedral. This is the finest specimen of the old 
Norman style in the kingdom. Ely was originally an 
island, and is now surrounded for many miles on 



Ely to Edinhurgh. 119 

every side by low flat land called the fens. The 
cathedral stands on the crown of the rise of land. 
The part first bnilt of the present strncture, was 
occupied in 1106. Other portions have been added 
from time to time as the centuries followed each 
other. For instance, the Gallilee Porch was completed 
in 1215, and is a beautiful example of the early 
English, or pointed style. The old major tower, 
which w^as of stone, fell in 1322, destroying three 
great arches of the nave. In a short time afterward 
these arches were rebuilt, and a wooden lantern, 
covered with lead, erected in place of the tower. 
Subsequently two great additions were made to the 
length of the nave toward the east. The whole 
cathedral is five hundred and seventeen feet long, — 
breadth of nave and aisles seventy-five feet, — length of 
transept one hundred and ninety-seven and one-half 
feet, — inside height of the nave, ninety feet. The 
screen separating the choir from the nave is of carved 
oak of the most exquisite workmanship, and is modern, 
also the stalls in the choir. Standing inside near the 
east end, and looking westward over four hundred feet, 
down the entire nave, ninety feet in height, bounded 
first, with six bays of early English arches, — then 
three bays of decorated English, — then the spacious 
octagon under the great lantern, with its lofty and 
graceful tracery of blending groined arches, — and then 
twelve bays of massive and lofty recessed Norman 
arches, springing from clustered columns of solid 



mo Ely to Edinbiirgli. 

stone, — and over all, the ceiling, apparently lofty as 
the sky, painted in fresco with brilliant representa- 
tions of Scripture subjects, and you have a combi- 
nation of height, and vast perspective — of ponderous 
solidity, and aerial grace — of solemn and ancient 
simplicity, and of elaborate and brilliant adornment, 
which is thought to be unsurpassed by any architec- 
tural view in Europe. There is, besides this mammoth 
structure, a lady chapel on the north side of the 
cathedral, of stone, elaborately adorned, one hundred 
feet long, forty-six feet broad and sixty feet high from 
pavement to ceiling. The modern adornments in the 
interior of the cathedral are of regal elegance. The 
grand organ is perched like a bird on the wing, high 
up on the side of one of the great arched bays. The 
altar cloth is covered with the rarest and most costly 
embroidery, and the reredos, or screen of sculptured 
alabaster behind the altar, and just before the great 
end window as you look east from the choir, is 
probably not surpassed by anything in England. It 
is full of beautifully wrought statuary representing 
scenes in the life of our Lord; and the spiral columns 
which divide the scenes, are adorned with winding- 
rows of cornelian and blood-stone brilliants — real 
gems — set in the alabaster. Ely seems to have re- 
markably attracted volunteer labor in its restoration 
and adornment. The frescoes on the ceiling of some 
three hundred feet in length of the nave, are the work 
of two amateur artists — gentlemen of fortune — who 



EUj to Edinhurgli, 121 

gave the better part of their lives to this labor of 
love; and the altar cloth is the result of the life- 
long gratuitous labor of two sisters of noted skill in 
embroidery. There is no end to the beauty of adorn- 
ment concentrated here; but for practical religious 
purposes it is a mere show. We remained a few mo- 
ments to hear the great organ at the 10 o'clock 
services, and listened for a time to the mechanical 
intoning of the collect. There were, including our- 
ourselves, but fifteen persons present, aside from the 
officials. 

The great Norman tower on the west front of the 
cathedral 1 have not spoken of. It is not to be 
compared in grace and soaring majesty with the Salis- 
bury tower and spire ; but there is a weird mystery 
about its huge outlines and massive combinations 
which makes an impression not to be forgotten. It 
seems to be a lofty embodiment of the ideas of castel- 
lated grandeur in medieval times. 

We left Ely, and about noon arrived at Peterbo- 
rough, still going north. Here is another ancient 
cathedral — in the Norman Style, with Early English 
additions — not so vast or beautiful as Ely, but yet of 
great interest. To give some idea of the expensive- 
ness of these cathedral establishments, I will note the 
staff of the one at Peterborough : One Bishop ; one 
Dean ; four Canons Eesident ; three Minor Canons, 
one being Precentor; one Master of Choristers ; twelve 
Lay Clerks, paid and honorary ; sixteen Choristers, 



122 Ely io Edinhurgli. 

paid and supernumerary; one School Master; one 
Usher ; twenty Scholars on Foundation ; six Alms- 
women ; five Vergers, Bedesmen, etc. Quite an 
establishment to perform on week days for fifteen to 
twenty hearers! However, on the Sabbath, they say 
there are often quite large congregations. May they 
do all the good they can ; but I am sure that whatever 
good is done, is not the fruit of the millinery and 
intoning. 

Leaving Peterborough, we went still north, to old 
York. All the way we rode through a strikingly flat 
country — like our western prairies. On our way we 
crossed Marston Moor, where Cromwell obtained his 
decisive victory over Charles I. I neglected to state 
that Paley was born at Peterborough. I have just 

read what I have written to W , and he says I do 

not do the cathedrals justice ; for he saw in Chester, 
the Sabbath he was there, an audience estimated at 
two thousand; and we also saw large audiences on 
the Sabbath in London, in St. Paul's, and Westmins- 
ter Abbey. 

We arrived in the city of York, in Yorkshire county, 
at evening, and put up at the Black Swan HoteL 
This is on Coney street, old and narrow. ' A hotel has 
been kept in tliis house over two hundred years. The 
city of York contains about fifty thousand people. It 
is very ancient. Is an old Roman town, said to have 
been founded nine hundred and eighty-three years 
before Christ. The Roman Emperor Severus lived 



Ely to Edinhurglu 123 

here three years, and died here. The great Koman 
Emperor Constantine was hoim here iu the year 272. 
Portions of the old wall remain, and furnish, as in 
Chester, a delightful promenade, with fine views of 
the old city and neighboring country. The river 
Ouse runs through the city. After supper, we walked 
around the great York Minster cathedral, of which 
you have stereoscopic views at home. We spend the 
Sabbath here and expect to attend service there in 
the morning. We then went in the bright twilight 
to the ruins of St. Mary's Abbey. This was in Papal 
times a great monastic establishment ; but now a large 
part of the materials in the ruins have been removed 
and used in the erection of buildings. Henry VIII. 
built from the ruins a large establishment which is 
now most profitably occupied as an asylum for the 
blind. We saw troops of the blind girls enjoying an 
evening walk in the fine garden around the asylum. 
The spacious grounds of the Abbey run down a 
charming slope to the river side. The property is 
now Crown land ; but has been leased at a nominal 
rent to the citizens of York, who have laid out a 
garden of remarkable beauty of lawn, shrubbery, and 
vista — including the picturesque ruins of the old 
Abbey. We caught some views of rich sylvan beauty 
— showing in luxuriant perspective, lawn, trees, and 
distant hillsides as seen tlirougli the openings of the 
lofty ruined arches of the Abbey, which we have 
never seen surpassed. 



12Ji. Ely to Edinburgh. 

Sunday, August 20. — Very bright in tlie early 
morning, but soon clouded, and afterward misty and 
wet. In forenoon attended the cathedral and sat 
within the choir. I realized that "distance lends 
enchantment to the view ;" for you have at home a 
stereoscopic view of the choir in York Minster, and 
the picture looks finer than the reality. It is not 
to be comj^ared in beauty with the choir at Ely. In 
fact that interior, as yet, far transcends anything we 
have seen, and the Salisbury cathedral takes the 
unquestioned precedence as to the exterior. We are 
becoming quite conversant with cathedrals. " The 
service this morning was in the utter extreme of the 
form. There were not over three hundred people in 
the vast cathedral, including the surpliced staff, who 
were vergered, and beadled, — marched, and counter- 
marched, — in wearisome monotony. The service was 
intoned. This is indescribable. It is a combination 
of a pseudo solemn tone, tune, and drawl. You don't 
know whether the official is singing, or speaking, 
and I doubt if he is certain which ; and were you 
not somewhat familiar with the collect it would be 
difficult to understand what was uttered. Bnt finally 
it ended; and the verger with his silver staff con- 
ducted the minor canon (who was to preach) to the 
pulpit; and the preacher then gave us a twenty- 
five minute sermon, upon the children mocking the 
prophet Elisha ; from which I got a new idea, namely, 
that the expression of the mockers, " Gro up, thou bald 



Ely to Edinhurgh. 125 

head," was a blasphemous utterance of their contempt 
for the Divine act by which Elijah had been taken up 
by God, as typical of the subsequent ascension of the 
Eedeemer. This, in a measure accounts for the swift 
punishment of the blasphemers. The Lord's prayer 
was repeated in the service about six times. When 
they recited the creed the whole congregation turned 
to the east, and when the name of Christ was uttered 
in the creed, all bowed. 

W has gone out this afternoon to look into the 

chapels, and get portions of as many sermons as he 
can hear. He is always on the alert to hear a sermon ; 
for this, he says, he cannot often do at home. Tell 

my son J , now at home, to get Hugh Miller's 

" First Impressions of England and Its People," from 
my library in the study, and read his admirable com- 
ment upon the cathedral service in York. 

In the evening we went to the Baptist church and 
heard quite a refreshing sermon from a Mr. Smyth e. 

After the sermon W introduced himself; and Mr. 

Smythe engaged to come to the Black Swan in the 
morning and go with us to the Museum. 

Monday morning, August 21. — Sunny in early 
morning, but clouded up and rained some; after- 
ward the day became beautiful. Our landlady of the 
"Black Swan" was in far more than a "peck of 
trouble," this morning. It seems that her man waiter, 
and the chambermaid — both aspiring young persons 



126 Ely to EdinMirgh. 

in the flush of youthful imagination — had gone off 
together, bag and "luggage," (as they say here,) and 
the Black Swan had plenty to do beside " singing." 
However, the bar-maid turned in as waiter; and we 
fared very well at breakfast ; and we greatly comforted 
our hostess by assuring her that w^e did not suffer in 
the least through her calamity. " Servants," she says, 
"have come to a great pass, these days." So it 
appears that old England is not exempt from such 
catas trophies. 

Mr. Smythe came, and we went to the Museum ; and 
again viewed the picturesque old St. Mary's Abbey. 
The Museum is specially rich in geological fossils, and 
the collections of birds. We saw the nightingale — 
w^ould that we could have seen and heard it alive ! 
We saw also the Swift, a small bird, but wdth 
enormous surface and power of wing, and said, (as 
you will remember in "Argyle's Reign of Law," to be 
the sivifUst of all birds, and capable of flying one 
hundred miles an hour. We then went again to the 
cathedral and were taken by the verger into the 
chapter room ; and after v/ards into the crypt. Then 
we ascended to the top of the tow^er, and obtained a 
magnificent view of a vast English landscape. We 
must have commanded in ourview^ a 8\veep of country 
at least sixty miles in diameter. A great part of 
Yorkshire county — which is the empire county of 
England — lay below us, in all the luxuriance of the 
highest cultivation and adornment. 



Ely to Edinhurgh. 127 

At 3 o'clock we left in the train for Edinburgh 
Our train was the Scotch express, and ran very 
rapidly ; but the oscillating motion of the short 
English cars is excessive, beyond anything ever known 
at home. It kept us bobbing, shuffling, wriggling and 
grumbling, (I mean good naturedly,) all the way. 

W had a guide book, and was a capital mentor 

for me. He shook every castle out of the book, and 
notified me as we passed them on our way. We went 
through Newcastle-on-Tyne, the great coal field and 
coal dealing city ; passing scores of smoking chimneys. 
At Berwick we crossed the Tweed and entered old 
Scotland ; and at 9 P. M. we reached Edinburgh. 



CHAPTER XII 



EDINBURGH. 



Picturesque Surroundings. Statues. Scott's Monument. --Calton 
Hill. Burns' Monument. Autograpli Letters and Souvenirs 
of Burns. Queen's Drive. Salisbury Craigs. Arthur's Seat. 
Magnificent Views. Frith. German Ocean. Lothians. Pent- 
land Hills. Dudingston Loch. Craigmillar Castle. Cove- 
nanters' Caverns. Walter Scotts' Favorite Walk. Jeanie 
Dean's Cottage. Girls on Horseback in the Drive. The Ranger 
and his Scotch Wife. Their Library. Holyrood Palace. Queen 
Mary's Apartments. Rizzio's Death. Darnley's Death. Both- 
well. John Knox. Canongate Street. Its Closes. Ancient 
Splendor; Modern Squalor. Tolbooth. John Knox's House. 
Old Parliament House. Court Room where Sir Walter Scott 
was Clerk. St. Giles' Church. King James and Knox. Chal- 
mers' House— The Grange— His Grave. Hugh Miller's Grave- 
Bore Stone— Inscription. Flodden Field. 

Edinhurgli, August 22. — Were delighted to find at 
the Balmoral Hotel a package of letters, forwarded 
to us from London. Commenced our round at 10 
o'clock, having secured a very intelligent Scotchman 
with a fly. At t\iQ first glance by morniag light, it 
was evident that we had seen no city so truly pictur- 
esque as this. On leaving the Balmoral Hotel, on 



Edinhurgh. 129 

Princes street, and going southerly we passed a 
marble statue of Allan Ramsey. The head and face 
were beautiful. Back of the statue on the hill, is 
the cottage where he died; we afterward saw the 
shop in Canongate street, where he commenced 
business as a bookseller; and the dwelling adjoining, 

where he lived. Tell J to look in Chambers 

Cyclopedia of Literature in my library, and he will 
learn of Allan Eamsay. Next, we passed Scott's 
monument, familiar to us from our picture of it at 
home, which is very faithful. The location of this 
monument under the hill, has been criticised; but 
I think it could not be better placed to keep it 
in the eye of the great mass of tlie population. The 
statue of Scott seated within, is admirable ; and the 
tall monument above, is a striking and complete 
specimen of florid Gothic. We next passed the 
statue in bronze of Professor Wilson, (Christopher 
North); then riding under Calton Hill, and in front 
of the High school, where Brougham* and Jeffrey 
were instructed, we came to the monument of Robert 
Burns. This is between Calton Hill, of which you 
have a stereoscopic view, and Arthur's Seat, above 
Salisbury Craigs. It looks out upon the new city on 
the right, and the old city, with its quaint and irreg- 
ular outlines, terminating in the Castle perched on 
high upon a mighty rock, which itself is a fortress. 
Let us enter the monument to Burns. It is a 
circular stone building of one story, surrounded with 



ISO Edi7iburgh. 

a colonnade. There is no statue of the poet within, 
but a marble bust ; and arranged around the interior 
are likenesses and mementos of Burns. We spent 
some time in noting these. He was a child of nature ; 
deeply interesting, not only for his rare genius, but for 
his ingenuousness. Yet, poor Burns ! how abundant, 
even in this monumental temple to his memory, are 
the evidences of failings, not only, but a stronger 
word is needed — his conscious sins. A letter is 
shown here, by Burns to John Tennant, dated Decem- 
ber 22, 1788, in which he discants at great length 
upon the rare qualities of some whisky ; a barrel of 
which he doubtless had received from Tennant, who 
was either a distiller or whisky merchant In July, 
1796, about eight short years after, the London 
Herald, exhibited here, notices the death of Burns — 
a death, beyond dispute, greatly hastened by dissipa- 
tion. There is here a plaster cast of the head of 
Burns, taken after death. Also a sword cane, carried 
by him, when exciseman; a bit of oat-meal cake, 
made by his wife, and — sad memento ! — the " Drink- 
ing Quaigh" (or cup) used by him — too freely used — 
in "Auld Nanse Tinnock." There is also here a piece 
of one of the wooden rafters from the roof of the 
cottage where Burns was born ; worm-eaten doubtless 
when it upheld the humble shelter for the infant 
poet, as it is worm-eaten now, and yet more lasting 
than the house of clay which was made instinct with 
the life and charms of his soul vSo, even genius fades 



Edhiburgli. 131 

swiftly from present view. There is here the original, 
in Burns' writing, of the " Kirk's Alarm." The pic- 
ture we have of Burns in our library, is a copy of an 
engraving preserved here. There are some strange and 
tender autograph letters preserved here as mementos; 
one to his " Clarinda," who either then, or afterwards, 
was a Mrs. McLehose ; whose portrait and album are 
also here preserved. We copied this letter and I 
give it in full ; I know not whether it is in his life or 
published letters; but it is strikingly illustrative of a 
heart too often wayward; and yet so ingenuous in 
penitence, and so susceptible to religious obligation, 
as to be of the most winning interest. But it ought 
never so to win us, as to prompt extenuation, or 
obliviousness of the wrongs, whatever they may have 
been, which he laments. This is the letter : 

"To Clarinda:"—"! am distressed for thee, my brother Jon- 
athan." " I have suffered, Clarinda from your letter. My soul was 
in arms at the sad perusal. I dreaded that I had acted ^vrong. If I 
have robbed of —(the word following is illegible)— God forgive me. 
But, Clarinda, be comforted. Let us raise the tone of our feelings a 
little higher and bolder. A fellow creature who leaves us— who 
spurns us without just cause— though once our bosom friend,— up 
with a little honest pride,— let them go. How shall I comfort you 
who am the cause of the injury? Can I wish that I had never seen 
you ? That we had never met ? No, I never will. But, have I 
thrown you friendless ? There is almost distraction in that thought ! 
Father of mercies ! Against Thee often have I sinned ! Through 
Thy grace I will endeavor to do so no more. She whom thou knowest 
is dearer to me than myself ! pour thou the balm of peace into her 
past wounds, and hedge her about with thy peculiar care, all her 
future days and nights. Strengthen her tender noble mind firmly to 
suffer, and magnanimously to bear. Make me worthy of that friend- 
ship she honors me with. May my attachment to her be pure as 



132 Edmhiirgh. 

devotion— lasting as immortal life. O, Almighty Goodness ! hear 
me ! Be to her at all times,— particularly in the hour of distress and 
trial,— a friend and comforter, a guide and guard. 

" How are thy servants bless'd, O Lord, 

" How sure is their defence ; 
" Eternal wisdom is their guide ; 
" Their help— Omnipotence." 
Forgive me, Clarinda, the injury I have done you. To-night I 
shall be with you, as indeed I shall be ill at ease till T see you." 

There is no date to this letter. In a letter preserved 
here, to his cousin James Burness, dated February 9, 
1789, Barns speaks of the "many months" in which 
" his life was one continued scene of dissipation/' and 
also speaks of his "indolence." In this letter he 
announces his marriage. Alluding to this he says, 
''My wife is my Jean. I have attached myself to a 
very good wife, and have shaken myself loose of a 
very bad failing." There is also a letter from his 
wife "Jean Burns" — doubtless after the death of 
Burns — alluding to their son. 

Leaving Burns' monument, and passing by Holy- 
rood Palace, we enter the "Queen's Drive," (that is 
Victoria's — for Prince Albert caused the road to be 
made,) and we ascend toward Arthur's Seat. Now as 
we rise, what a glorious view we command! Below 
us to the left is the Frith of Forth, and on its margin 
is Portobello, the great watering place, (the Brighton 
of Scotland.) In the distance, to the far left, beyond 
a long tongue of laud, is seen the entrance into the 
open German Ocean. On that long tongue, we see a 
mighty landmark — the great rocky pyramid of North 



Ediyihirgli. 1S3 

Berwick Law. To the left, in the centre of the 
Frith, is the island of Inch Keath, where the 
renowned Douglasses, in their oft repeated wars on 
the border, brought, and confined of yore, their Eng- 
lish prisoners, who gaye them the name of " Black, 
or Bloody Douglasses." At the foot of the hill and 
directly behind us on the Frith, is Leith, the seaport 
of Edinburgh, two miles east of the city, but virtu- 
ally a part of it. Further south, on the left, stretch 
away the fertile hill slopes and plains of the " Lothi- 
an s," lifting into the sunlight their pictured farms ; 
and still beyond in the dim distance, toward the Ger- 
man Ocean, are lifted above them, the '^Moorfoot 
Hills.'' Here, we leave our fly, and for a still higher 
view, walk up the grassy and rocky slope to the top 
of Arthurs Seat, eight hundred and twenty-two feet 
above tlie sea. Going up, we pluck from the short 
grass the sweet Blue Bells of Scotland, (some of 
which, with some tiny white blossoms from the same 
wild slope, we enclose to you herewith.) We are now 
on the summit. Looking north, we command the 
whole Frith of Forth from the German Ocean to its 
entrance into the Highlands, far inland. We look 
down, as the eagle sees them, upon Calton Hill, upon 
the old city and the new; and to the west, upon 
Newington, with its ranges of fine modern dwellings 
and gardens. On the terrace at our feet, lie the rag- 
ged outlines of Salisbury Craigs, as they hang over 
the city. On the south, five miles away, the bold 



ISJ/. Edinburgh. 

'' Peiitland Hills" — from wliicli Edinburgh is supplied 
with wafcer — are lifted high against the horizon. This 
range^ while running westward forty-two miles to 
Lanarkshire, is pushed eastward as a mighty promon- 
tory into the very bosom of the Lothians, which 
embrace them on either side, as if gladdened by the 
springs and nourishment washed down from their 
heights; while beyond the city to the far north, and 
west, from thirty to fifty miles away, stretch upland 
and valley, in wave beyond wave, lifting to view 
reaches of rich copse, and yellow wheat fields, and of 
green pasture, and meadow lands. ' But let us look a 
moment at the details. At the south base of Arthur's 
Seat, the sun flashes as from a mirror, from the smooth 
waters of Dudingston Loch — in winter the great 
skating park of the city. On the farther shore, are 
the fields and woodlands, where Charles the Pretender 
reviewed his troops before the battle of Preston Pans 
— the village of that name lying seven miles away on 
the coast of the Frith. Still further south, on a gentle 
rise, embosomed in luxuriant trees, and covered with 
ivy, we see the ruins of Craigmillar Castle, the 
favorite summer residence in the heart of the Lothi- 
ans of Mary Queen of Scots. This castle in later 
times was besieged, and taken by the grand old war- 
rior Cromwell. But, descending the Queen's Drive — 
for time flies, and we have yet many sights to capture 
— we wind around under Salisbury Craigs^=T%Ld we 
now look up into the rough gorges and' caverns, 



Edinhurgh. 135 

where the old Covenanters found a refuge, and sang 
praises to God, offering hearty and humble homage 
to Him whose law was to them above all human 
edicts, and whose love was their life. We get now, 
looking up, as we descend the slope, views of the 
walk under the Craigs, the favorite haunt where Sir 
Walter Scott was accustomed in boyhood to linger 
and ponder as in dream land. As we look above the 
Craigs we now see the rocky heights of Arthur's Seat 
and the ridge behind it in relief with the sky pro- 
jected in bold profile, as a mighty recumbent lion, 
with face, head and form in striking leonine simili- 
tude. Looking below to the left on the other slope of 
the valley, about half way up the opposite side nestles 
the little veritable cottage, where David Deans lived 
with his daughters, Jeanie and Effie Deans, immortal- 
ized in Scott's novel, the " Heart of Mid Tjothian." We 
went into the cottage. There is a new roof, and there 
are new occupants since David Deans lived tnere, 
when he was a '' cow feeder " in that then lone valley. 
There was then no road — only a wild cow path. But 
now, the good Scotch wife of the English "Ranger'^ 
appointed by Prince Albert at a pound a week to keep 
charge of the grounds, as we stood with her in the 
cottage garden and looked down on the "Queen's 
Drive," pointed out to us a group of four young girls 
on horseback, ridmg with their maiden locks stream- 
ing in the wind, and their riding master with them ; 
and she said to us, " Isn't it a bonny boon, to have 



1S6 Edinburgh. 

such a safe road for the lassies to ride in ? " She gave 
us some blue bells and fern from the garden wall and 
rocks, and also a piece of an old rafter of the cottage, 
to make into paper folders. We went into the cot- 
tage, and she pointed out the rooms as they were in 
Dayid Deans' time. She and her husband are true 
and noble " Cotters," soul enlightened children of an 
open Bible, like those in "The Cotters' Saturday 
Night" of Burns. I noted some of the books in 
the treasured library of that humble peasant's 
home, under its lowly roof. Among others, I saw 
there. Chambers' Cyclopaedia, Barclay's Diction- 
ary, D wight's (our American D wight's) Theology, 
Brown's Dictionary, Exposition of Matthew, Hervey's 
Meditations, Scott's Poetical Works, Lives of the 
British Reformers, Joseph us' Works, Doddridge's Else 
and Progress, Wilberforce's Practical View, and Faw- 
cett's Christ Precious ; all giving evidence of frequent 
use. Such soul-food can be relished by peasants, only 
when the mind and heart, through unfettered faith 
in God, have been made partakers of that liberty 
wherewith Christ can make free. 

On our way back, we went into Holyrood Palace. 
We saw the Royal Chapel, a very beautiful ruin. We 
saw also the apartments which Mary Queen of Scots 
occupied when residing there, with the chest of 
drawers, bed, and chairs she used. The dressing 
room of Queen Mary is still hung with the tapestry 
made in part by herself; and in her bedroom we saw 



Edinburgh. 137 

lining the walls, the great sheets of tapestry which 
she brought from France. Her private supper room 
was lined with silk— a few faded and perishing rem- 
nants of which are shown. We saw also the private 
stairw^ay leading from her bedroom to the bedroom 
of her husband Darnley, below^; up which stairway 
Da^nley, infatuated by his maddening jealousy, led the 
assassins, w-ho broke into the private room where 
Queen Mary was supping with some of her maids of 
honor, and Rizzio. Here the assassins seized Rizzio, 
who tried to shield himself by sinking behind the 
Queen ; but they stabbed him over her shoulder, and 
dragging him out through her bedroom into her 
audience chamber — having pierced him with over 
fifty wounds — they left him weltering in his blood in 
the farther corner, where the dark stain of the blood 
is still shown : they then escaped through the garden. 
Queen Mary caused a partition to be erected in her 
audience chamber, which still stands, and shuts off 
the part w^here the horrid sight of his mangled body 
lying, haunted her mind. I note here, that some two 
hours after seeing this, we saw up in the old city, a 
part of the ancient city wall, beside which once stood 
the house, in which the murderer Darnley was him- 
self blown up and instantly killed by conspirators ; 
the leader of whom was Bothw^ell, the third, and last 
husband of Queen Mary; he being divorced from a 
former wife in order to marry the Queen. Bothwell 
afterward died in exile, and a pirate, insisting 

1 



138 Edhiburglu 

however, to the hist, that Mary liad no complicity with 
Darnley's death. But the facts at the best, throw a 
very dark shadow upon her memory. But recurring 
to Holyrood, the marble step is still preserved, on 
which Mary kneeled before the altar, under the great 
east window of the chapel, now in ruins, when she 
was married to Darnley. In Mary's bedroom we saw 
the basket for holding baby clothing, presented at his 
birth, to her babe, afterward James Yl. of Scotland and 
I. of England, by Queen Elizabeth — King James being 
the son of Darnley. It was in the same audience 
chamber, where afterward the body of Darnley 
lay, that Queen Mary had an interview with that 
grand old Reformer, John Knox ; who there ad- 
dressed an admonition to the Queen's attendants, as 
follows : " 0, fair ladies ! how pleasing is this life of 
yours if it would ever abide, and then in the end 
that ye pass to Heaven with all this gay gear ! But 
fie upon the knave Death, that will come whether we 
will or not, and when he has laid on his arrest, the 
foul worms will be busy with this flesh, be it never so 
fair and tender; and the silly soul, I fear, shall be so 
feeble, that it can neither carry with it gold, garnish- 
ing, torqueting, pearl, nor precious stones." 

But I must leave Queen Mary, and her palace. We 
now enter Oanongate street in the old city, once the 
abode of the nobility, it being the highway between 
the palace and the castle. We pass a narrow entrance 
on the right, just wide enough to admit a carriage. 



Edinburgh. 139 

Over this humble opening is written, '' White Horse 
Close/' This, in the time of Mary, was the entrance 
to the finest hotel in Edinburgh, ^ow, it would be 
deemed a shabby inlet to a stable. This Canongate 
street — once the pride of the Scotch nobility — the ele- 
gance of which attracted the admiration of Dr. 
Johnson in his yisit to Scotland with Boswell, is now 
the home of penury, squalor and filth. On either 
side as we pass up, we see frequent entrances called 
^^ closes," which lead into narrow, damp and noisome 
passageways between houses six and seven stories 
high, now crammed with families, with no access to 
light and air except from these narrow passages, which 
meanwhile are running with the sink washings of all 
the crowd. We entered one "close" which formerly 
led to a famous mansion in the rear, inhabited by a 
nobleman. I could touch the houses by stretching 
out my arms, on both sides of the narrow passage at 
once. And yet here were scores of families — some in 
rooms with no window or opening except the door 
and the glass light in it. These houses, thus crowded, 
were seven stories high ; and on these lofts, mounted 
by dark and crazy stairways, on a passageway where 
only a gleam of sunlight could fall at high noon, lived 
scores of families. Who can marvel that the abject 
poor are wretched and degraded, under such hard- 
ships and suffering ? And yet, all along this Canongate 
street, are famous old houses of noted families of the 
gentry. I will name a few, as we go up. Here is 



lJf.0 Edinhurgh. 

Qneensbury House, once the home of the beautiful 
Lady Catherine Hyde, the patroness of the poet Gay; 
and of whose wit and charms, Pope, Swift and Prior 
sang. Here too is the ''Moray House," where Oliver 
Cromwell lived, and in the winter of 1650, after the 
victory of Dunbar, held his public levees. Here too 
the eldest daughter of the Earl of Moray was married 
to the Earl of Argyll, who afterward perished by the 
hand of the executioner. A little above was the old 
Tolbooth, a prison famous in Scottish annals, as the 
Bastile in Paris. Still above stands the old house 
where the glorious reformer John Knox lived; and 
the window is shown where he once sat, with a candle 
beside him, when an assassin shot at him through the 
window, and hit the candle dashing it to the floor. 
Knox had a charmed life, till his great work was 
done. We pass the old Tron church. Then we come 
to the Parliament house, where the Scotch Parliament, 
consisting of Lords — with no House of Commons — 
had their seat before the union with England was 
consummated. Beneath the pavement in front, is the 
spot where John Knox was buried. We entered the 
great Hall where the Peers used to sit, which is now 
used for the high courts. It dates from 1636 — the 
time of Charles I. and has a very rich and strik- 
ing roof. Here is a remarkable portrait of Lord 
Brougham, taken in 1864, in his full dress as Chan- 
cellor of the University of Edinburgh. There is also 



Edinhurgli. IJfl 

here an excellent marble bust of Jeffrey, the great 
Scotch reviewer, and one of the founders of the Edin- 
turgh Revieiu. In this room the old Covenanters were 
tried ; and in the room below this some of them were 
tortured and put to the rack. We went into another 
part of the building where the court is held of which 
for many years Sir Walter Scott was chief clerk ; we 
saw the chair and table where he sat officially, in wig 
and gown. We went also into the robing room, and 
saw the robes of the lawyers hanging up in ranges on 
pegs, and the tin boxes containing their wigs, which 
are made of horse hair. I put on a robe and wig, and 

W said I looked queer but quite professional. 

We next visited St. Giles church, a Romanist cathe- 
dral before the Reformation, but now occupied by 
three Presbyterian cougregations ; the west end of 
the nave by the West St. Giles church, Dr. Nesbit 
pastor ; the east end by the High church, so called. 
Dr. David Arnott pastor ; and the south transept, by 
the old Tolbooth, or new South church, Cornelius 
Giffen pastor. In the east end of tliis old cathedral 
John Knox preached often to royal ears. There is 
still seen the King's seat, in the front gallery. Here 
Queen Mary once heard John Knox; and her son 
James VI., (I. of England,) heard him here often ; 
and, with his pedantic show of Scripture knowledge, 
would sometimes interrupt, saying : " Weel John, how 
is that ? Where do you find that, John ?" " I find it 
here, do you ken, your majesty ;'' was the reply of 



lJf.2 Edinhurgh. 

Knox ; " and the Scripture is so indade." It was in 
this east end, that the meetings were held which led 
to the going out of the present free church of Scot- 
land, under Chalmers, from the establishment. 

A little farther up the street, we saw in the pave- 
ment a rude heart formed in the paving stones. Here 
was the old Tolbooth ; and this spot is marked as the 
" Heart of Mid Lothian." It was here, in 1581, that 
the Earl of Morton's head was exposed upon a pike to 
public view; and in 1650 the head also of the gallant 
Marquis of Montrose ; and in 1661 that of the Marquis 
of Aro-yll. Turning into a narrow street at the rear 
of the University of Edinburgh and at the head of 
what was called the college ^'wind" or path up the 
hill, we saw vacant ground which was the site of the 
dwelling, now removed, in which Walter Scott was 
born. We then drove out to Church Hill in Morning 
Side, in the environs of the city, and saw the house 
where Chalmers lived and died. We visited the 
"Grange," or South Cemetery, where he is buried, 
and saw his grave. On the tablet of Scotch granite, 
is inscribed, " Thomas Chalmers. Born March 17, 
1780. Died May 31, 1847." Also, " Grace Pratt, his 
wife. Died January 16, 1850, aged 58." We also saw 
here the grave where Hugh Miller — one of the great- 
est and noblest of Scotland's sons — is buried. On the 
truncated Scotch granite tablet above his grave is 
inscribed, " Hugh Miller. Died 24:th December, 1856. 
Aged 54 years." He lies alone; no one buried beside 



Edinburgh. IJ^S 

him. but there were flowers still blooming on his 
grave. 

Leaving the Grange, we saw about a mile away the 
"Bore Stone," in which the Eoyal standard was 
planted, as recorded on a tablet below it, where the 
Royal troops w^ere mustered in 1513 before the battle 
of Flodden Field, of which vScott says in Marmion : 

"Highest and midmost was descried, 
The Royal banner, floating wide. 

The staff a pine tree, strong and straight, 
Pitch'd deeply in a massive stone. 
Which still in memory is shown. 

Yet bent beneath the standard's weight." 

Tell my son C that in this vicinity we saw 

signs posted on vacant lots marked " To be Feued^^ 
This means, as we found on inquiring, that the land 
is to be leased to parties who will hiiild upon it. A 
short way of telling in Scotch, an English circumlo- 
cution. On our way home we saw" the rear of a 
tenement house, showing ten stories in lieight, above 
an abutting basement wall, itself at least eighteen feet 
above ground ; and in which, our driver said, there 
were two more stories, making tioelve in all. 



CHAPTER XIII 



SCOTLAKD. 



A Free Church Scotchman. Melrose Abbey. Grave of Sir David 
Brewster. Eilden Hills. Abbotsford. River Tweed. Valley. 
Grounds. Gardens. Roman Medallions. The Study— Library- 
Drawing Room — Souvenirs — Old Armor. Dryburgh Abbey. 
Grave of Scott. Yew tree old as the Ruin. Edinburgh— Steam 
Omnibus. Antiquarian Museum. Castle. Room in which 
King James was Born. James' Court. Home of Boswell. Mag- 
dalen Chapel. Early Home of Sir Walter Scott. Inauguration 
of "Edinburgh Review." Gray Friars Church. Covenanters. 
Martyr's Prison Yard. Graves of Robertson, Ramsey, Tytler, 
Black. Fidelity of a Dog. 

August 23. — Cool and cloudy. Started at 10 o'clock 
for Melrose Abbey, and Abbotsford. A beautiful ride 
of sixty miles, south. We met in our compartment 
on the train a typical Free Church Scotchman. A 
grand, sturdy, Christian man. Recognizing us as 
Americans, we were soon drawn into sympathy, and 
we learned much from him of the method, and causes 
of the disruption in the Church of Scotland. He 
shook our hands when he left the car as though we 
had been old friends. We knew each other at once, 



Scotland. IJjB 

through the bond of a living union with a common 
Lord and Liberator. There is a striking difference 
between an average middle class English man , and a 
Scotchman. There is apparent in the latter, a breadth 
of view and vigor of conviction, which indicate 
familiarity with questions of Christian doctrine, rather 
than of form. 

Before noon we reached the noted Melrose Abbey. 
It was founded in 1136, — was restored in 1326, — and 
a part of the nave was afterward roofed in and used 
for some time as a Presbyterian church. But it is all 
now a ruin. Within the old site is growing an elder 
(our common elderberry) tree, very old, and large as 
an apple tree of full size. We heard the clock in the 
ruin — ^itself two hundred years old, with rude stone 
weights — strike the hour of twelve. Under the east 
wiudow lies buried the heart of Eobert Bruce; and a 
little to the north is the grave of the Black Doug- 
lasses, (so called.) In the Abbey churchyard, are 
buried two of the servants of Sir Walter Scott, with 
monuments erected for them by him, attesting their 
fidelity, and his atfection for tliem. Under the west 
side of the Abbey is the grave and monument of Sir 
David Brewster, inscribed : "Burn 1781. Died Feb y 
10, 1866;" also of, "Dame Juliet Macpherson his 
beloved wife, who died Jan'y 27, 1850," and beneath 
are the words, "The Lord is tliy light." To the 
west, looking down upon churchyard and Abbey, rise 
the bold Eilden Hills. 



lJf6 Scotlmid. 

We next went to Abbotsford, three miles distant. 
The whole estate of Abbotsford — the home which so 
powerfully enlisted the affections of Sir Walter Scott — 
consists of about thirteen hundred acres, bounded on 
the western border by the river Tweed, and lying in 
the river valley and on its easterly slope. It is beau- 
tifully diversified. The wood on it w^as mainly planted 
by Sir Walter. Abbotsford stands on the second rise 
from the river bottom; the declivity between the 
mansion and the bottom land being terraced in the 
most beautiful manner, and kept closely cut in grass. 
The house faces the Tweed. To the right' are the 
gardens; to the left, forest; and in the rear there is 
an exquisite flower garden ; in the wall surrounding 
which are inserted, as medallions, old Eoman pieces of 
sculpture, on circular stone slabs around which, and 
as a living lining on the w^iole face of the wall, are 
trained closely cut ivy and yew foliage, in which the 
medallions appear as panels ; the effect being strikingly 
beautiful. Sir Walter's study window looked out into 
this garden. You have a stereoscopic picture of the 
mansion at home, and the Tw^ed in front. We 
entered in the basement — but a part of the house 
being open to visitors. Crowds come here. There 
had been twenty-three that morning before us, and 
they kept coming. A lady conducted us up stairs, 
first into the study, where we saw the chair in which 
Sir Walter sat and the table on which he wrote ; then 
into the library ; then into the drawing-room ; then 



Scotland. lJf.7 

into the armory; and then into the entrance hall. 
In the library were many curiosities — presents to Sir 
Walter, and treasured collections by him. We saw a 
jeweled box given him by Miss Edgw^orth, and rich 
presents from George lY. We saw the writing port- 
folio, pen-holder, and the gold cloak-clasp, in the 
form of two bees with extended wings, which be- 
longed to Napoleon Bonaparte, and which were taken 
from him at Waterloo. In the armory we saw the 
pistols Napoleon had in that battle. Numerous kinds 
of armor and w^eapons, being the collections made by 
Scott, w^ere exhibited in the armory and also in the 
main entrance hall. In the latter place is a glass 
case containino- tlie larare white hat and the clothinof 
which Sir Walter w^ore just before his last illness. We 
then visited the larger garden on the east, where I 
obtained from the gardener some berries of the coton- 
easter microphilla, to take home. 

Leaving Abbotsford, we went by a fly about seven 
miles, to Dryburgh Abbey, where Sir Walter, and 
Lockhart, his son-in-law and biographer, are buried. 
Dryburgh is a line old rain, dating back about seven 
hundred years. I will not stop to describe it here ; 
but procured some views. It was a complete monastic 
establishment in its Eomanist days, — with dungeon, 
dormitories, refectory, cloisters, library, Abbot's draw- 
ing room, etc., beside the nave, choir and transepts of 
the main cathedral portion, beneath which was the 
chapter room. To the south of the Abbey, at a little 



lJi8 Scotland. 

distance, is probably the tinest yew tree in the world. 
It is of immense size — about forty feet high, some 
fifty or sixty feet in diameter of crown, and the bole 
of the tree some twenty feet in length and three feet 
in diameter. This tree w^as planted when the Abbey 
was founded, seven hundred years ago. It is in full 
luxuriance, with not the least sign of decay. Here 
was a striking lesson. The Abbey, built of stone — 
the highest expression of enduring permanence — had 
long since mouldered to dust and perished, — many 
parts of foundation and superstructure vanished, 
leaving not even a trace behind. And yet this tree, 
of the same age, and dependent for its continuance 
upon the constancy of the returning seasons, and upon 
the ceaseless nursing of air, sunlight, and shower — 
the child of the ever fleeting clouds and winds — stands 
in vigorous and undying life; while the solid rock 
structure, which once towered far above it, has 
perished. Here we saw illustrated the transitoriness 
of the permanent, and the permanence of the transi- 
tory. The one was man's work and perished with its 
authors; tlie other, God's work, the fruit of His 
unfailing, thougli ever changeful Providence. Let 
this teach us that if we trust in Him for life — a life 
hid with Him in Christ — our immortality is sure. 
But if we build on other trusts, though they seem 
durable as rock, they will surely vanish, and our 
hopes will perish utterly. If we sow to the flesh, of 
the flesh we shall reap corruption. K we sow to the 



Scotland. l]^!d 

Spirit, of the Spirit we shall reap life everlasting. 
That yew tree is a symbol of unceasing dependence ; 
but unceasing acceptance of every transitory, and yet 
never failing help, witliotd and leijond itself. So we 
must trust ever for life, in help aljove self resources. 
Eeturned in the evening to our hotel in Edinburgh. 

Atigust 2 If.. — Cloud}^ Windy and stormy day. We 
took a covered fly in the morning, and entered upon 
our closing round here. Went to Calton Hill. Saw, 
on returning, a steam road omnibus, loaded w^ith 
people. Will not stop" now to describe it. Went to 
St. Andrew's Square, and saw where Lord Brougham 
was born. Went also to Antiquarian Museum, and, 
among a vast number of relics, we saw there the 
identical pulpit in which John Knox preached in St. 
Giles' Cathedral; also the "Maiden," as it is called — 
a guillotine — the identical one by which Morton, in 
1581, and Argyll, in 1661, and many others were 
beheaded. We then went to the Free Church Col- 
lege, and saw the Assembly Hall and the Library. 
There is here a full length portrait of Chalmers, from 
which my engraving is copied. We saw there, also, 
one of the original Covenants signed by the Cove- 
nanters. We then went to the old castle, perched on 
its lofty — and before the day of heavy cannon — its 
impregnable rock. We saw there the regalia of Scot- 
land — crown, scepter and sword of state. The ancient 
St. Margaret Chapel here, is the oldest church in 
Scotland, dating back eight liundi-ed years. We saw 



150 Scotland. 

also, the room in a tower of the castle, which was 
occupied by Mary Queen of Scots, after the murder 
of Eizzio, and where, a few months after that tragic 
horror, her son James VI. (and first of England) was 
horn. It is a little low cheerless room. From the 
one window of this room, it is said that the queen 
had the infant James, when eight days old, lowered 
in a basket two hundred and fifty feet, down to the 
base of i\\^ rock below, and taken to Stirling Castle 
to be baptized into the Eomish Church. This story 
seems incredible. 

We then came down from the castle, ancV on the 
way saw St. John's Free Church, where Dr. Guthrie 
preached; also where Dr. Ilanna preached and lec- 
tured on the life of Christ. We next saw James' 
Court, entering which by a long, narrow, dirty way, 
we saw the house in which Boswell lived, and where 
he entertained Dr. Johnson in his famous visit to 
Scotland, and where the elite of Edinburgh then paid 
court to the distinguished stranger. We next saw the 
royal residence of the Duke of Gordon, entered through 
a narrow passage, with a private connection with the 
Grass-market on the other side below the hill. We 
then went to Magdalen Chapel, where John Craig, a 
colleague of Knox, preached in Latin ; and where the 
General Assembly first met after the Eeformation, 
"where Mr. Andro Melville was chosen moderator," 
and "whar it was concludit that bischoppes sould be 
callit be their awin names of breither in all tyme 



Scotland. 151 

coming, and that lordlie name and anthuritie banissed 
frae the kirk of (lod, qwhilk hes hot ac Lord, Chryst 
Jesns." We next saw No. 25 on George Square, where 
the father of Walter Scott lived when Walter was a 
boy, and where he played in the green square, in 
sight of Arthurs Seat and the Salisbury Craigs — 
fitting surroundings to nourish his imagiuation. We 
then saw No. 18 Buccleuch Place, where, in the third 
story front room, Jeflrey, Sidney Smith, Brougham 
and othei'S met about November, 1801, and inaugu- 
rated the Edinburgh Eeview. Last of all, we visited 
old Gray Friars' Church and burying ground. It was 
here, on the first of March, 1638, after a solemn ser- 
mon by Alexander Henderson, that the great National 
Covenant was signed by the leading nobility; and it 
was then carried out of the church and placed on a 
flat tombstone near the entrance, and was there signed 
by the common people, many of whom in their ear- 
nestness, with enthusiasm, tears and prayers, "used 
their own blood instead of ink.'" We saw here, also, 
where the noble army of martyrs were buried, slain in 
the infamous reign of James II. — dethroned, under 
God, by the great Prince of Orange, William III. 
We saw, too, the prison yard — about sixty feet by two 
hundred and fifty — where, in the cold of winter, many 
hundreds of the Covenanters, were confined as prisoners 
in the open air, with no shelter from the wintry 
storms. In this burying ground we saw the graves 
of Eobertson and Tytler, the historians; of Allan 



152 Scotland. 

Ramsay; Joseph Black the great chemist, and of many 
other distinguished Scotchmen. 

Just before leaving the churchyard we were intro- 
duced to a noted living occupant of this " eocampment 
of the dead" — namely, "Greyfriars Bobby," a Scotch 
terrier dog, who has a strange but well attested history. 
About twelve years since, a poor unknown man named 
Gray was buried in this churchyard. There were few 
present when he was laid in the earth, but among the 
mourners was this faithful dog. After the interment, 
the dog refused to leave the grounds ; but taking his 
place upon the fresh mound, with no monument to 
mark the grave, he kept faithful guard by night and 
day. The old curator of the grounds several times 
forced the dog away and turned him into the street — 
it being against the rules to allow a dog within the 
yard, — but with the next funeral procession the dog 
was sure to enter, and take his post upon his master's 
grave. This constancy won the heart of the curator, 
who now allowed the faithful terrier to have his way, — 
regularly supplying him with food. And so, for more 
than eight years, that dog — in the winter as well as 
summer — by night as well as day — kept watch upon 
that grave. Tlien, he was gradually persuaded to 
accept a sleeping place on stormy nights in the 
curator's office ; but he uniformly took post by day 
upon the grave ; and when we saw him there, the dog 
was called from the grave, to the office ; and we looked 
into his faithful and now venerable face, which wore 



Scotland. 15S 

an expression of meek constancy which seemed almost 
human. We should have been unworthy of his ac- 
quaintance if we had not regarded that loving creature 
with unfeigned respect. It was touching to see the 
tenderness with which the present sexton — an intelli- 
gent Scotchman, successor to the old curator — treated 
that dog, now infirm with age ; and the quiet and 
almost dignified self-possession of the dog, as he 
accepted the attention. 



1 1 



CHAPTER XIY. 



SCOTLAND, 



Linlithfiow. Falkirk. Stirling. Greyiriars Church— Churchyard. 
Ladies' iiock. Vale of the Tournament. Reformation. Mon- 
uments. Scotland's Maiden Martyr. Views from the Ladies' 
Rock. The Castle Rock. Abbey Craig. Wallace Monument. 
Ochil Hills. Saline Hills. Campsie Hills. Carse o£ Stirling 
Field of Bannockburn. The Battle. Gillies Hill. Vale of 
Menteith. BenLoinor.d. Grampian Hills. The Castle. Palace. 
Parliament House. Death of Douglass. Queen Mary's Look- 
out. Callander. Stage Ride to the Trossacks. Rain. Loch 
Katrine. Ellen's Isle. Benvenue. Glen Arklet. Inversnaid. 
Loch Lomiond. Scenery. Ben Lomond. Bailoch Pier. 
Glasgow. 

August 25. — Left Edinburgli at 9 oclockj feeling tha:" 
v/e had seen no city more interesting for its peerless 
pictnresqneness, and its crowded historical and lite- 
rary associations. On our way north to the Highlands, 
we soon passed the old castle of Linlithgow, once a 
palace, in one of the rooms of which, Mary Queen of 
Scots was born. We passed also Falkirk, the great 
Scotch mart and market place for cattle, and soon 
reached the old historic town of Stirling. Here we 
stopped and went up on the hill, first to \\\^ old Grey- 
friars church, in which, in 1543, the Earl of Arran — 
then Regent of Scotland — abjured Romanism, and 



Scotland. 155 

wliere also James YI. (Mary's son) was crowned in 
his infancy, July 29. 1567, — John Knox preaching 
the sermon on the occasion. Here too, Ebenezer 
Erskine, the great leader of the Secession Church of 
Scotland, once preached. The east end of this fine 
old church, with its pleasing and massive Norman 
nave and groined stone ceiling, is occupied by one 
church, and the west end by another. We now go 
out into the old churchyard, every inch of which is 
historic ground. To the east, on one border, are the 
ruins of the lordly castle of the Stirlings, where, in 
medieval times the pride of ])aronial power, and the 
muster of clans, and the rude revelry of mailed 
knights, and their chivalrous courtesy to the "ladies 
faire," were oft seen. In the center of this old cem- 
etery, is the " Ladies' Kock," a'.bold craig of ironstone, 
where, tradition says, the " faire ladies" sat to witness 
the tournament in the valley to the north, directly 
under it, in which often the mail-clad horsemen met 
in full tilt in the shock of rushing steed, and pon- 
derous armor, and keen lance. But the rude and 
semi-savage age of chivalry passed, and there came 
a sterner conflict — the Reformation — and now the 
ground is studded here in a populous throng with the 
braver and holier combatants, in conflicts of immeas- 
urably greater meaning. In the valley of the old 
tournaments there now stand monuments to John 
Knox, (though he was not buried here,) to Alexander 
Henderson, to Andrew Melville, to James Eenwick; 



156 Scotland. 

and fair ladies too are blended in this throng, for 
here lies buried the lovely and sainted Margaret Wilson, 
"Scotland's Maiden Martyr," who would not abjure 
her faith in Christ, but, "bound to a stake within 
flood mark of the Salway tide, she died a martyr's 
death on 11th May, 1685." A marble group of statu- 
ary of the rarest beauty, erected here, now commem- 
orates the scene. 

But let us look around us from this storied " Ladies'- 
rock." To the north, just over the valley of the 
tournament, is the old fortress of Stirling, on its 
lofty rocky craig. Its towers and battlements lift 
high their massive and defiant heads. To the north- 
east, is the Abbey Craig, which pushes its abrupt 
promontory of rock close to the shore of the winding 
Forth below it. On the head of this craig stands the 
lotty monument of William Wallace, looking down 
upon the bottom land and the borders of the stream 
where he won the great battle of Stirling, in 1297, 
which mainly gives him fame. Still further north 
and sweeping around to the east bounding the hori- 
zon, are the Ochil Hills — pictured with green fields 
and patches of purple heather and bare rock. Still 
further east lie the Saline Hills, in Fifeshire; and 
toward the south on that side, the view is bounded by 
the distant range of the Campsie Hills, below 
which, lies before you the vast reach of the carse of 
Stirling, with the Forth winding its luxuriant way 
across it. To the south, lie the plains and slopes of the 



Scotland. 157 

:field of Bannockburn, where, on June 24, 1314, Bruce 
met a vast English army under Edward II., and, with 
forces less than half of those of his opponents, broke 
the invader's power, and won back Scotland to the 
sway of its native clans. You see the whole theatre 
of the action. To the right, stretch into the battle- 
-field the ridges of Gillies Hill, behind which lay the 
haggage of Bruce's army and his camp followers. At 
a critical moment in the struggle, these " gillies," or 
camp followers, in a motley throng show^ed themselves 
to the astonished Euglish, from the ridge of Gillies 
Hill. The English, thinking them a fresh army, 
were panic stricken and fled before Bruce, who thus 
won the day. To the right, and stretching off west- 
erly, is the range of Touch Hill ; and now, turning to 
the west, the loveliest scene of all lies below you — the 
sweet vale of Menteith — a green expanse of the most 
fertile bottom land; beyond which, bounding the 
distant horizon, old Ben Lomond lifts its mountain 
craigs, and the whole range of the great Grampian 
Hills sweeps in dark and misty outline, — cloud cov- 
ered, and storm haunted, — to the north, where we 
started in our view. A bolder, brighter, darker, 
richer, sterner, lovelier view, with its storied battle- 
fields, its castellated heights, its crowded monuments, 
its winding stretches of vale, river, and wheat land, 
and its embracing highland ranges, within which all 
lie embosomed, was never seen. 



158 Scotland. 

The old castle of Stirling requires special mention ; 
and Ave now ascend to it. We cross the ancient moat' 
now empty, over the drawbridge, within the gate 
where the old port-cullis was wont to be lifted to 
admit those having the right of entrance. We saw 
here the place in the wall w^here General Monk, of 
the great Cromwell's army, made a breach, in 1651, 
and took the castle by storm. Within the castle 
walls we see the remains of the old Palace, built for 
his own residence, by James V. of Scotland, in 1540, — 
a rude, and yet elaborately adorned pile, many of the 
time-worn stone images built into the walls of which, 
still attest a corruption of taste and morals in their 
builders. Within the castle walls is the old Parlia- 
ment House, where the Scotch Parliament used to 
hold its stormy, and often fruitless sessions ; evincing 
the jealousies of clashing clans, more than the sturdy 
instincts of rising freedom, which animated the old 
English House of Commons. We see near this a 
room of the castle lifted above the garden, where 
James V. having invited the powerful Earl of Doug- 
lass wdthin the castle, by giving him a safe conduct, 
afterward finding that he could not induce Douglass, 
(who was leagued with the Earls of Ross and Crawford 
to defend each other against all opponents Avhether 
king or hostile clan,) to break his league, the king, in 
a moment of ungovernable passion, drew^ a dagger and 
stabbed Douglass, whose body was then thrown out of 



Scotland. 159 

the window which we saw, and was buried in the 
garden. We nov/ mount the castle wall, and pass 
around the north and west sides of the castle, upon 
the promenade which overlooks the vale of Menteith, 
and the glorious reach of Highland view, I have 
before described. In the curtain of this wall a hole is 
seen rudel}' broken in the stone, called " Queen Mary's 
look-out." Upon a seat behind this opening,- it is said 
tha^t the beautiful but sadly fated, and I fear de- 
moralized. Queen of Scots, used to sit and look down 
upon the valley of the tournament and watch the 
contending knights in their games in the king's 
gardens — so called — under the castle walls, four hun- 
dred and fifty feet below. 

We nov/ re&ume our train and soon reach Callander, 
where we mount the stage for our ride to the Tross- 
achs. It is a wild afternoon. The old Grampian 
Hills have veiled heads thickly muffled in black and 
driving storm-clouds. Soon the rain-mists dash upon 
us ; but we lift our umbreJlas, holding them tensely 

as they strain in the vind. W sat forward near 

the driver, as is his wont, to ask questions by the way. 

I sat with Mr. P on the back seat outside, and 

with us, and on the seat just in front, were five Eng- 
lishmen, strangers to us. Of course where all raised 
umbrellas, the drip of the umbrella protecting me 
would fall in the lap, or neck, or possibly face, of my 
neighbor in front; and his drip, with due impartiality. 



160 Scotland. 

would favor me, — and so likewise through the crowd. 
Nevertheless on that stage-top, in the scurrying 
storms of the Scotch Highlands, there never was a 
better natured set of tourists. Each one, while being 
patiently soaked, was intent upon persuading his 
fellow, that all was as well as could be ; and so we 
mutually accommodated and soaked each other, till 
we reached the welcome Trossachs Hotel in the High- 
lands. Here, dismounting, to our agreeable surprise, 
the first man who met us was our delightful friend 

Rev. G. D. B of Philadelphia. He had arrived 

an hour before from the opposite direction. Rooms 
obtained, and wiping accomplished, we were soon at 

the table d'hote for dinner, — Mr. B by a delicate 

attention to our happiness, having secured seats for 

us next his own. After dinner W and Mr. B 

walked and talked; and I and Mr. P talked and 

nursed a little fire smoldering in a grate hardly 
larger than a meerschaum. The next morning it 

rained for a time, harder than before. Mr. B 

however, left early for Callander, as he is to sail Sep- 
tember 2. But after breakfast, it happily broke 
away, and we were cheered by the sun as we again 
mounted to go to Loch Katrine. Let me here 

introduce to you Mr. S. H. P , our traveling 

companion in Scotland. He is a young Virginian, a 
native of Richmond. During the war he was a 
Captain in the Southern army. We made his 



Scotland. 161 

acquaintance on ship-board; and at his request, we 
cheerfully assented to his sharing with us our High- 
land journey. He is a gentlemanly and intelligent 
companion, and we have much enjoyed our asso- 
ciation with him, which on his part, he seems to 
value. Eeaching Loch Katrine — our driver mean- 
while repeating quite a la "Shed,^^ snatches of the 
Lady of the Lake, descriptive of the mountain heights 
we passed, — we took the little iron steamer '^Rob 
Roy'' for the trip through the lake. We soon pass 
around Ellen's Isle, 

"^Where for retreat in dangerous hour 
Some chief had framed a rustic bower." 

On the right in our rear, Ben A'an lifts its bold, 
rocky head eighteen hundred feet high; and now, 
emerging from behind the island as we sweep round 
into the lake, Ben venue towers on the south to the 
height of nearly twenty-four hundred feet. I will not 
pause to dwell upon the wild granitic peaks of the 
bare headed mountains. We soon reach, at the south- 
ern end, the Hotel of Stronachlachar. Here we mount 
a coach for a five mile ride across Glen Arklet, to 
Inversnaid, on Loch Lomond. Here is a beautiful 
waterfall, where the river Arklet plunges into Loch 
Lomond. The bridge over this stream is the scene of 
Wordsworth 's poem, the "Highland Girl." But the 
bell of the little steamer rings, and we go on board 
for Balloch Pier, a sail of about twenty-three miles — 



162 Scotland 

full of wild beauty and legendary charm. We stop 

at Kowardennan, where W and Mr. P landed, 

to take ponies and ascend to the top of Ben Lomond, 
over three thousand feet high. I continued on to 
Balloch Pier, and there took the rail for Glasgow, 
which I reached about 5 o' clock, and then took a 
hansom, and rode through the beautiful Park. Put- 
ting up at the Queen's Hotel, I awaited the coming of 

W and Mr. P who arrived about eleven at 

night. 



CHAPTER XV 



GLASGOW. 



The Cathedral. Presbyterian Service. Beauty of Interior. Free 
Church. Precentor. Admirable Sermon by a Mr. Reith — 
Synopsis. Subtle Spiritual Insight. Open air preaching-. Closes, 
Crowds in the Street. Tron Church. Clialraer's Astronomical 
Sermons. Ship yards on the Clyde. Iron Steamers. 

Sunday, August 27, — Glasgow is now the most 
populous city in Scotland, and next to London, in 
Great Britain. In the forenoon we attended the 
Cathedral. This is an old Romanist pile, once in the 
.keeping of its builders, the Papists, with their priests, 
monks, and nuns, but at the time of the Eeformationy 
taken by tlie Scotch Church, and now is in the hands 
of the Presbyterian Establishment of Scotland. We 
were curious to see a Cathedral service under the 
management of Presbyterians. They use paraphrases 
of the Psalms, and the only point in wdiich the service 
differed from their ordinary one w^as the chanting of 
one of the Psalms — I think the XC. There was no 
organ, and no instrumental mtisic. The tune here 



16Jf Glasgow. 

however, was simply pitched by a violoncello. The 
sermon was by a supply — the pastor being away — and 
was quite pretentious, but negative as to any special 
merit. The cathedral is one of the finest we have 
seen; massive in its vast stone arches, and groinings, 
and wonderfully graceful in the harmonious blend- 
ings of its outlines of tracery. The style is highly 
ornamented Norman — or Norman, keeping its main 
features, while passing into the Early English, with 
all the massive dignity of the former, and the elegant 
tracery in stone groining and pointed arches of the 
latter. In the afternoon, we attended the Free 
Church in Divinity Hall, and heard a sermon worthy 
of special notice. The pastor, Dr. Buchanan, was 
absent, and the preacher — Mr. Reitli — was a supply. 
Learning this as we went in, we were inclined to go 
further, thinking we might do better. An intelligent 
Scotchman however, at the door, told us we had 
better go in and take a seat near the pulpit where we 
could hear, as the preacher had a weak voice; and, 
doing this, he would assure us that we could not do 
better in Glasgow. This assurance we found to be 
true ; and now for the service : First, the clerk 
brings in from an ante-room, the large Bible and 
hymn book, and going up the pulpit stairs places 
them on the cushion. Next, arrayed in black kids, 
and evidently conscious of his good appearance, with 
ruddy cheeks, and flowing gown, comes the precentor, 
who takes his seat behind a desk below the pulpit. 



Glasgoiv. 165 

Now the preacher, Mr. Reith — a pale, serious, scholarly 
man, about forty, with the black gown, but no con- 
sciousness of millinery, comes in from an ante-room, 
and goes into the pulpit. His reading of the Scrip- 
ture W pronounced ^^faidtlessP I could not 

quite say that, fancying a too marked sacerdotal inton- 
ation; but it was nevertheless, of rare excellence. 
His text was Hosea I., the last of the tenth verse : 
"And it shall come to pass, that in the place where it 
was said jinto them (the children of Israel) ye are not 
my people, there it shall be said unto them, ye are the 
sons of the living God." 

He opened by a reference to the nature of Divine 
forgiveness. There is a marvelous delicacy in it. 
The sinner is wholly forgiven, but is never reminded 
of his sin in any such way as if he were to be told : — 
"You are forgiven, — but, do you know, that the 
enormity of that for which forgiveness is granted, is 
such that it is well nigh incredible that you should be 
forgiven !" But God ever blesses the penitent seeker, 
without iqjlr aiding. Nay, such is the delicacy of 
forgiving love that it wo aid almost seem — so intent 
is God upon the sinner's feeling to the full the recon- 
ciliation — that forgiveness was something that even 
conferred a favor upon God. Again, the forgiveness 
of God is wholly unlike the forgiveness by one friend 
of an injury which another had done him. There is 
often a reconciliation between those who have been 
estranged ; but it is of such a nature, that by a 



166 Glasgow, 

mutual, though it be tacit imclerstanding, there is a 
studied silence as to the ground of the offence. Tliat, 
it is felt, had better not be alluded to. There is recon- 
ciliation ; but the ground of its maintenance is obliv- 
iousness of past alienation. Now the nature of Divine 
forgiveness, is just the opposite of all this; and is pre- 
cisely such, that the remembrance by the sinner of 
his sin and of its enormity, is just v/hat gives him the 
most adoring and sweetest joy in his gratitude. He 
doubly rejoices "that there is forgiveness ivith God, 
tliat He may he fearedP It is just hecause his sin luas 
■SO great, and the forgiveness so ahsolnte, reaching to 
the utmost depths of the guilt, and making in the 
reconciliation, the sinner a son, — the enemy, a loving 
and adoring child — that the heart of the redeemed is 
made to sing praises unto God in tJie very iMce^ and 
on the very ground of his sin. " Pa.rdon mine iniquity 
for it is great,'^ is the penitent's yearning prayer; and 
when pardon is granted, it is with such loving and 
unreserved forgiveness, that ever after, the deeper the 
consciousness by the sinner of the greatness of his 
guilt, the livelier will be his conscious love for, and 
rejoicing loyalty to Him, who, without upbraiding, 
has come to the offender, over the mountains of his 
sins, and has made an enemy, a son. The text thus 
prepares us to see first, that as God in His salvation 
reaches the sinner, at the very ivorst of his offense ; as 
he there, and then, effects reconciliation by virtue of 
the ineffable efficacy of the Eedeemer's work, reaching 



Glasgow. 167 

the very roots of Jus sin : it is i\\Q\\jusf there, that the 
sinner is bound not only, but will rejoice, to love and 
serve his Saviour, and will seek to win back to Christ 
the very territory which had ])een surrendered to 
satan ; and thus make the held in his heart where 
satau had once been in the ascendant, a realm re- 
gained to Christ, Again — the redeemed sinner is 
bound to shovr liis allegiance to the Redeemer just 
where he most signally sinned, as the best possible 
test of the sincerity of his sorrow for the sin, and of 
the genuineness of his deliverance from its power. 
Again — the text leads us to see that nothing can be 
more mistaken than for the sinner to say to himself, 
"Were I in different circumstances, I could then 
serve Christ effectively; but now, ha\^ng been so 
great a sinner and being environed by such tempta- 
tions, trials and weaknesses, I cannot hope for a vic- 
tory over what is so adverse to my salvation." On 
the contrary, the truth is, that it was just because the 
sinner is so hopelessly lost in himself, that au 
Almighty Saviour came to redeem; and the plan of 
God's grace in salvation is that there, in that jjlace, 
where sin abounded, grace and life are to much more 
abound. Lastly — the sinner is to evince the earnest- 
ness and genuineness of his abandonment of sin, and 
his loyalty to holiness, and his conscious progress, 
through Christ's help, in rising superior to once 
reigning sin, because, it is just there, in that very 
place, where, in the nature of salvation, the change 



168 Glasgow. 

from darkness to light must be most signally effected ; 
in order that the process of the preparation of the 
sinner for heaven, may be most evident and real. If 
we ever reach heaven, the effective preparation for 
admission into the realm where holiness reigns abso- 
lute, must begin and progress liere. All the germs of 
the new life and the new state of harmony with holi- 
ness are liere. There is nothing in eternity, to impart 
any new spiritual germ. Salvation must take vital 
root and begin its indestructible development in this 
life, or it can begin never ; and so, by the marvelous 
delicacy of God's infinite love; by the all-conquering 
efficacy of Christ's atoning power ; by every principle 
of gratitude for the gift of redeemed life, and of joyful 
peace here in the very place where sin had most rioted 
in its deadly power ; and by all our hopes of a heavenly 
inheritance, incorruptible, undefiled and never to fade 
away, are we called upon to realize, in a blessed per- 
sonal experience, the truth of the text, that in the 
place where we once felt that we were not God's 
people, tliere he now calls us the sons of the living 
God." I have given but a hurried and meager outline 
of the sermon. There was little that was demon- 
strative, and quite a number dropped asleep. But 
some hung upon his words, as with a subdued but 
ever recurring earnestness of cadence they were heard, 
as though they issued from charmed lips. It was as 
though one heard a delicately attuned musical instru- 
ment played with surpassing skill. There was a rare 



Glasgow. 169 

and subtle insight into, and a lucid analysis of the 
methods and living efficacy of the grace of the Saviour 
in the soul, that rewarded the attentive listener, and 
refreshed him with draughts of the very juice of the 
gospel. We went out feeling that the Scotchman had 
been faithful in influencing us to remain with him, 
that we might find good. 

In the evening at six, we went to an open air 
service in the yard of the cathedral. A young 
Scotchman of the Free Church — doubtless a lay- 
man — preached to quite a large crowd. He had 
a moveable pulpit, with a cloth screen behind. He 
was earnest, and doubtless a most estimable Christ- 
ian ; but he preached nearly an hour, in a denuncia- 
tory strain, addressing sinners more by terrorism, than 
by the presentation of the wonderful scheme of the 
Divine love in Christ for the redemption of man in 
the gospel. Afterward we walked through the streets 
of the more densely populated part of the city, and 
found numberless crowds of men, women and child- 
ren, on the pavements to the very road center. All 
along these streets, as in Edinburgh, there were dark, 
narrow and filthy entrances to "closes," from which 
the crowds had issued, to get on Sunday their best 
access to air and light in the open street. A pitiable 
sight. No marvel that there is degradation, where 
all ages and sexes are crammed together in such filth 
and discomfort. No marvel either, that cholera 
should come at intervals as a terrible visitation, 
13 



110 Glasgow. 

arousing public attention to the sufferings of the 
too greatly neglected poor. Men who have wealth 
and authority in the great centers of population, need 
the sharp counter-irritants of such terrible scourges, 
arousing them for their own preservation, to adopt 
sanitary measures for the comfort, greater cleanliness, 
and purer air and water for the poor. So it is often 
in Divine Providence, that what seems an avenging 
visitation, is really an almost merciful dispensation in 
disguise, to result in blessing. Afterward we visited 
the old Tron Church, where the great Chalmers 
preached. It was here, in a comparatively small 
and dingy chapel — itself in a sort of "close," back 
from the street — that the "Astronomical Sermons" 
were delivered, which attracted such rapt attention, 

and gave the preacher such a world-wide fame. W 

went also to St. John's Church, where Chalmers 
preached last, in Glasgow. 

Atigast 28. — Took a fly and went to the great ship 
building yards on the Clyde, where the mammoth 
iron steamships of the world are built. There we 
saw the whole process of the construction of these 
leviathans which are fast absorbing the commerce of 
the world. One of the overseers, finding w^e were 
Americans, kindly took us through the whole works, 
giving us much valuable information. We have now 
an idea of the structure of these ships, from the 
bottom of the keel to the top-mast. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



ENGLISH LAKES AND ENGLAND. 



Keswick. Lake Derwentwater. Southey. Crystal Haze. Scenery. 
Coach Ride to "Windermere. Rydal Water. Rydal Church, 
Wordsworth's Cottage. Nab Scar. Rydal Knob. Scene of 
Home Picture by Hart. Fox How. Thomas Arnold. Matthew 
Arnold. Ambleside. Preston. Black Country. Birmingham. 
Kenilworth. Warwick Castle— Portraits— Armor— Curiosities. 
Great Cedars— Warwick Vase. Rich Landscape. Stratford-on- 
Avon. Shakespeare's Birthplace. Trinity Church— Grave — 
Monument. Shottery. Ann Hathaway. 

Leaving Glasgow, we took the train for Carlisle, 
Penrith, and Keswick, to visit the English lakes in 
Westmoreland county. We arrived at Keswick in 
the evening, putting up at the Victoria Hotel. The 
next morning, August 29, was pleasant; and a scene 
opened to our view around our hotel, of indescribable 
wildness and beauty. Here is Lake Derwentwater. 
The poet Southey lived here for many years. We 
saw the grove in which his house was embosomed in 



172 English Lakes and England. 

trees. All around us the strangest mountain heights 
lifted themselves into a singular sunshiny haze — a 
haze, almost mist, and yet of crystal clearness, show- 
ing in sharp relief all the mountain outlines. This 
peculiar haze is characteristic of the region. It 
is shown in our picture at home, of Kydal Water. 
We have always thought it to he the mist of sunrise, 
or sunset ; but it is not. The hills at Keswick were 
of strange aspect, bald, and utterly bare of shrubbery 
to th^ very top, covered with great reaches of purple 
heather, their weird outlines sharply cut against the 
sky, their billowy forms lifted as though mountain 
waves had been fixed immovably in their wild toss- 
ings, and their sides deeply worn by ravines, and 
sheer slopes ; and, resting on all, in a soft, still, 
charmed solitude, as if happy in its OAvn strange 
beauty, w^as that misty crystal air, which filled the 
whole cope of heaven. 

At 10 we mounted our stage, and started for a ride 
of twenty- three miles through the Lake region to 
Windermere. Never was there a coach ride more 
enjoyable. The day though hot, was charming, and 
as we wound among the hills, catching ever new views 
of mountain vale and lake, the steep slopes often 
alive with leaping waterfalls ; and seeing at frequent 
intervals, nestled under softly luxuriant groves on the 
lake margins, the tasteful and often elaborately beau- 
tiful country homes of some dwellers of the distant 
city, or some devotee of the rare beauty of the region, 



English Lakes and England. 173 

we gave ourselves to the new sensations so variously 
blended, which made us hilarious in our enjoyment. 

At last, reaching Rydal Water, W and I dis- 
mounted, to allow the coach to go on, while we climbed 
the hillside, for a visit to the cottage where Words- 
worth lived. This hill slope lies under Eydal Knob. 
We walked up an ancient avenue leading to the seat 
of the nobleman who owns the whole region, and 
lives at Eydal Hall. An enormous oak overhangs 
the whole road, and far up on its gnarled trunk the 
seeds of ferns have been carried by the wind, and 
taking root, are luxuriantly growing in their bright 
green feathery patches, on the ribbed and solemn 
branches of this lord of the hill side. A long range 
of dark old yews lines one side of the avenue — fit 
symbol of a grave, but deep sincerity. Wordsworth 
must have walked and mused ten thousand times in 
the — to him — most animating society of these veteran 
ministers, stationed to proclaim on this mountain 
shrine, the high praises of Him wiio made them. 

We first reached Rydal church with its low square 
tower and four turrets, (which, I think, are visible 
among the trees in our picture.) In this church, 
Wordsworth worshiped. We found at the gate the 
old gardener at Rydal Hall, and he took us to the 
church, and looking in at the window, we saw the 
plain but neat interior, and the corner of the pew just 
under and on the right of the pulpit, where Words- 
worth sat. On the opposite side of the pulpit, was 



17 If. English Lakes and England. 

the pew where Dr. Thomas Arnold (of Eugby) who 
had a home at Fox How, near by, for summer resi- 
dence, nsed to sit. Arnold sometimes preached in 
this little church. 

Now, we ascend to the cottage. Wordsworth never 
oivned it, but rented it of the proprietor of Rydal 
Hall. Doubtless he was treated with kind considera- 
tion and made to feel at home, and encouraged to 
adorn the grounds. Still, it seems a wrong, that the 
descendants, it may be of some old Norman adventurer, 
should clutch in their grasp so much of the fee simple 
of these grand regions, that such a prince in the realm 
of nature as Wordsworth, should not be able to be the 
sovereign of the soil. The cottage is a plain two story 
building. Wordsworth built a low porch, and laid in 
its floor a section of a mosaic pavement taken from 
Pompeii, and presented to him, in which the word 
" Salve" (welcome,) is plainly legible. On each side of 
the porch outside, are planted by Wordsworth's own 
hand, some fuchsias, from which we plucked flowers. 
In the garden, just in front, Wordsworth caused a 
mound to be raised on which he used to sit and enjoy 
the view, of which I will try to give you an idea. 
Standing on the mound, fronting the cottage and 
looking up, you see on the left to the west, Nab Scar, 
lifted into the sky. The lofty peak, directly north 
before you, and extending far round to the right, is 
Rydal Knob, on the base of which the cottage nestles, 
and on its wooded slope the church stands below us. 



English Lakes and England. 175 

On the right and to the far east, are the mountain 
slopes and bold range of Wansfell. And now turning 
directly round, you see across Eydal valley as your eye 
sweeps upward, the wierd and rock-ribbed ravines 
and peaks of Loughrig Sould looking down upon you. 
We now ascend by Wordsworth's favorite walk 
around the cottage to the left, and up on the hill- 
slope beneath overarching shade, till we reach the 
summer house, in which, when seated,' you command 
a lovely view of Rydal Water, with its bright green 
islands. William Hart, who painted our picture, 
evidently stood on the other side, when he took his 
sketch, and looked at lake, islands, foreground, and 
hills, including the church and cottage, as though 
facing us from the opposite shore. We now set out 
in quest of Ids stand j^oint, whence we could see the 
landscape he painted. Descending in quick pace — 
for time hurried us — we crossed the valley, passed 
over the outlet of Eydal Water on a rustic bridge, 
and struck into the fields and bushes on the south 
shore, pushing our way bravely in this exploration, 
until we found a round bold rock, on which the 
artist doubtless sat when he took his sketch. Now I 
will give the scene in outline — in rough word paint- 
ing — as we saw it. You, at home, may look on the 
painting and verify the representation. Seated on 
this rock southwest of Eydal Water, we see first a 
sloping stretch of green pasture, nearly to the water's 
edge. Just on the margin of the lake is a clump of 



176 English Lakes and England. 

trees; they are mainly Mrch, but there are some alder 
and one low oak — the birch, in flowing outline, over- 
topping all. In front is an island in the lake, covered 
with shrubs and trees ; a clump of Scotch pines lifting 
their heads in the center above the rest. To the left, 
near the lake center, is another island, with lower 
trees. A house is seen on the extreme left, on the 
margin of the lake, |)erhaps too far west to be brought 
into the picture. Across the lake, are luxuriant trees, 
and higher up, the closely wooded slope in which, a 
little to the right, we catch a glimpse of the turrets 
on the low church tower; and still above, we see 
where the cottage of Wordsworth is, though it is 
quite tree hidden. In front across the lake, the 
range of Rydal Knob lifts itself. To the right, on 
the far southeast, is Wansfell; and on the left and 
west, jN'ab Scar lifts its slopes, marked off on the 
lower part in fields pictured on the side, and above 
them, the wooded heights overlooking alh We see 
ranges of stone wall, marking the field outlines. 
Now turning to the right, on our side of the lake, a 
long range of stone wall, wavering up and down the 
hillside, bounds the pasture in which we are seated 
on the rock. There is a gate in the wall in front, 
where the cows in our picture are seen. On our 
extreme right is the hill of Loughrig. I have thus 
drawn a bow at a venture ; but I think I have hit the 
'^Hart " of our picture. 



Englisli Lakes and England. 177 

Now for Fox How, which W , as a pilgrim to the 

"Arnold'' shrine, must see; wiiere the Eoman History 
by the great Rugby head-master was mainly written. 
Fox How is down the sw^eet yalley, a stretch of nearly 
two miles, and is abreast of the village of Ambleside. 
On we trudge, w^ith full faith in Arnold, and our legs. 
We rise up and clown, crossing a stone arched bridge, 
which, like Tennyson's, in the "Brook," forms an 
"eyebrow for the gleam beyond." We look into 
green lanes; we catch frequent glimpses of flower 
sanctuaries, where floral beauty holds high court, in 
which humming-birds and butterflies may woo the 
fragrance and sunshine, and feast on nectared dews. 
We are inquiring 2)ilg?Hms, pulling many a door-bell. 
"Is it here," we ask, "where Dr. Arnold lived?" and 
uniformly w^e are told, "It is further on/' until finally 
turning into a lane on our left, we accost a gardener, 
and he bids us enter, and leading us around a turn, 
the lawm and cottage of Fox How are in full view 
before us. Matthew Arnold, eldest son of the Doctor, 
and himself a writer of note, is seen playing croquet 

on the lawn with his wife, and a gentleman. W 

paused ; but I said, " Go on, and tell your errand as an 
American admirer and eulogist of the father. You 
will not be thought rude, but will be welcomed; for 
human nature has always a susceptible side to such 

approaches." Thus assured, W took counsel of 

his deeds rather than of his timidity, and step- 
ing forward I'equested for a moment Mr. Arnold's 



178 EnglUli Lakes and England. 

attention. In a yery cordial and genial way, this was 
instantly given. T then approached, and spoke of a 
recent lecture by my son at Eichmond, Virginia, on 
the lessons to be learned from Dr. Arnold's life. 

W spoke also, of having read nearly everything 

which Mr. Matthew Arnold had written; and thus 
introducing ourselves, Mr. Arnold, after briefly refer- 
ring with an air of gratification to the remarkable 
familiarity of Americans with current English litera- 
ture, gave us the entree of his grounds, requesting us 
to enter the garden and go round the house. As we 
passed, Mrs. Arnold — a slight, delicate lady — who had 
partly heard the conversation, glanced at us with a 
half covert, but yet pleased air, that her husband — 
whom doubtless she places, with all her fond heart 
on the highest human niche — should thus early meet 
responses from across the ocean. So we went round 
the grounds, looking in at the windows of the house, 
and getting impressions of the sunny and beautiful 
interior, adorned as the most cultured literary tastes 
would direct. On our way I saw, for the first time in 
England, three American trees, luxuriantly grow- 
ing, — a new American willow, a deciduous cypress, and 
a gorgeous cut-leaved beech. Passing out, as we took 
leave of Mr. Arnold, I alluded with hearty admiration 
to these trees. It was plain, however, though he 
blandly smiled, that he was far better versed in 
Grecian poetry and architecture, and the principles 
of Hellenic aesthetic culture, than he was in the 



English Lakes and England. 179 

poems which are "writ in trees," and the graces 
and beauty embodied in the ever young, yet neyer 
exhausted charms to be seen in wreathing leaves and 
clustering crowns of foliage. My enthusiasm in that 
direction, elicited no response of felt sympathy. As 
we passed away — greeted as we had been so kindly — 
and greatly pleased with the unaffected and manly 
blandness of Mr. Arnold's manner, I could not but 
wish that the owner of such a home, might be so 
cultured in his whole nature as to be able to enjoy 
and enter into converse with the many hued and 
living harmonies around him, in forms older than 
the classics, and yet ever young in a classic grace 
regal as the sunbeam. 

Now we go to Ambleside, crossing the swift and 
crystal Eydal outlet, on stepping-stones bedded at easy 
striding distance in the clean gravelly bottom. There, 

W betook himself to buying photographs; but I, 

in grosser mood, entered the coffee room of the hotel, 
and lunched with extreme zest upon the most fra- 
grant bread and butter I had found in England, 
made attractive by the accompaniment of rare cold 
beef, and home-brewed ale. Then, procuring a fly, 
we rode five miles to Windermere, admiring every 
inch of the way. As time pressed, we there took the 
train at 9 o'clock for Preston — which we reached 
about midnight. Finding the main hotel fall, our 
porter took us to a small temperance house. We 
were conducted to the fourth story, and we were soon 



180 English Lakes and England. 

in bed. It was not long however, before in the excited 

fancy of W the condition of his bed reminded him 

of a passage in Don Quixote, which he repeated with 
disgusted emphasis : " I say, Sancho ! Feelest thou 
anything ?" " Yes Master. I feel two or three any- 

things." And so W kept feeling and tossing 

wearing away some quarter hours, till in desperation 
he arose and dressing himself laid down on the outside 
of the bed to more quiet rest. 

Morning came, August 30, bright and hot, and we 
were early on our way. We passed through the coal 
fields, and the "Black Country," so called, by way of 
the eminence of soot, smoke, rust and cinders, through 
Wolverhampton and Dudley Port, to Birmingham. 
This great sturdy city we found to be far cleaner and 
more inviting than its environs. The clusters of coal 
mines, the forests of tall smoking chimneys, the dense 
smoke in the air, the huge blast furnaces, and iron 
mills, seemed as we neared Birmingham to cover 
whole counties. Still pressing forward, we soon took 
the train for Kenilworth Castle. We were disappoint- 
ed in this ruin, and I will not further allude to it, 
except to note the rich varieties of the variegated 
English Holly luxuriantly growing here. 

From Kenilworth we rode to Warwick Castle. This 
old stronghold of feudal grandeur is kept in perfect 
order, and is now occupied by the proud Earl, de- 
scended from the great *' king making" Warwick. 
This castle was a rare sight. I will only glance here 



Englisli Lakes mid England. 181 

rapidly at some few details. We were led through 
long suites of great State apartments — halls — ban- 
queting rooms — drawing rooms — armories — reception 
rooms — state bed rooms, etc., etc. There were paint- 
ings and portraits of rare value — some by great 
masters. There were costly curiosities from all lands; 
the spoils of many palaces, which wealth and lordly 
greed had accumulated here. We saw an inlaid 
mosaic table of costly stones, said to be the finest in 
the kingdom, and worth fifty thousand dollars. We 
saw all kinds of armor and military weapons. Now, 
we lift ourselves by hundreds of weary steps to the top 
of the lofty tower ; and here, a view^, typical of the 
most fertile and highly cultured English landscapes, 
stretches out in wide perspective on every hand. In 
grove and valley, in sweep of winding stream, in vast 
reaches of fat meadow, in glowing harvest fields, in 
clustering towns with every element of beauty, the 
princely realm of the Earl of Warwick lay all around 
below us. Directly under the castle walls on the rich 
slope of the old moat, stand gigantic Cedars of Leba- 
non clothed in brilliant green, with their labyrinths of 
wide reaching branches extended one above the other 
as if stratified in great sheets of foliage. These cedars 
from the heights of Lebanon, grew from seed which 
the old mailed crusaders, who left these castle gates of 
yore, brought back from their wild adventures. So 
friendly do the soil and climate of England prove for 
the cedars, which in their native heights like 



182 English Lakes and England, 

worshipers on the mountains, look down in grandeur 
upon the rich plains of Damascus, that their growth 
beside this castle has yielded huge trunks, which have 
been cut up into fragrant cedar boards, with which 
one of the vast castle halls is finished. Directly under 
the walls, in dense clumps, were dark and solemn 
yew trees, standing as if conscious and faithful wardens 
they felt the full dignity of an office which they had 
filled so worthily for centuries. Descending, we saw 
in a garden temple — built expressly for it — the gigan- 
tic marble "Warwick Vase," a relic of Grecian sculp- 
ture, transported from classic soil; itself an "ancient 
waif amid Attic ruins, when not a stone of the great 
castle, whose gardens it now graces, was quarried, and 
not a laborer of all those toiling throngs that once 
raised these sturdy towers, was born. But we cannot 
linger longer here. 

We are bound now for 8tratford-on-Avon, where 
Shakespeare was born, and died. It is late, and we 
are weary, as we return to our fly ; and our driver, 
sullen from our long tarry on the castle walls, and in 
the castle halls and gardens, whips his dumb and 
patient horse, and we in silence rest on the high 
backed seats for a ride of eight miles to the Red 
Horse Inn, in Stratford. Here, after supper, we are 
soon in bed, to await the morrow. 

I now remember, that I should have noted when 
at Preston, that Arkwright — afterward knighted as 
" Sir Eichard" — was born at Preston ; and that while 



English Lakes and England. 183 

living there, lie invented the Spinning Jenny, which 
made him famous. His native city is all alive with 
twirling spindles ; and many a great spinner's fortune 
has thus taken its rise in Arkwright's brain. 

Stratford-on-Avon, August 31. — We are up bright 
and early this beautiful morning, at the Red Horse 
Inn, for our hours with Shakespeare, before we 
hurry back to London. As we go down the stairway 
to the coffee-room, we see in gilt letters on the door 
of one of the ground floor parlors of the Eed Horse, 
the words " Washington Irving's Room." It was here 
the world honored American wrote some of his 
" Sketches," w^hile breathing the native air of Shakes- 
peare. So, literary celebrities affiliate, and are grouped 
along the centuries. 

Stratford is a quaint and quiet town. Passing 
down the main street about a half mile we come to 
the old Shakespeare house, of w^hich I have pictures. 
There is quite a museum of relics and curiosities in 
the way of autographs, old copies of his plays, etc., 
kept here, which I will not enumerate. We go up 
the winding oaken stairway, into a low room with a 
great old fireplace. Here Shakespeare was born. The 
walls are written over with names of visitors by the 
thousand. The floor is nearly worn through; the 
rough and ancient beams supporting the ceiling are 
all indicative of great age. We next visit Trinity 
church, in which is Shakespeare's grave, and the 



18Jf Eyiglish Lakes and England. 

monument erected by bis daughter. My pictures of 
tbe monument will best explain it. The church is 
yery old. In its rear, close to the wall and near 
the grave of Shakespeare, the calm still Avon runs, 
and beyond across the river are lovely reaches of 
silent meadow land. Ancient trees overhang the 
stream. Shakespeare's wife is buried beside him. 
We now go to the cottage in the adjoining town of 
Shottery, where the great dramatist courted Ann 
Hathaway. Arriving there, we are shown into the old 
living room, remaining as it was when it was Ann's 
home. We sat in the huge chimney corner- under- 
neath the vast open fireplace, where doubtless he and 
Ann often sat and courted ; but whether she, of some 
twenty-eight years, or he, of nineteen, courted, or was 
courted, there is no authentic record. We were shown 
her bed and the old linen sheets still carefully pre- 
served. They belong now to a widow relative of hers, 
who told us that she had been offered over two 
thousand dollars for the old mahogany bedstead. We 
drank water from the well, took some flowers from 
the garden, and left, to take the train for London, 
which we reached about 6 o'clock. 

Septeniber 1. — Another busy day in London, in 
preparation for our start for the Continent. 



CHAPTEE XVII. 



LOXDOX TO HEIDELBERG. 



Dover. Crossing Channel. Calais. France. Belgium. Brussels. 
Cathedral. Sabbath Service. High Mass. Liege. Cologne. 
Cathedral. Going up the Rhine. View Leaving Cologne. Old 
Town House. Roman Associations. Bonn. Seven Mountains. 
Beautiful Homes on the River. Heights. Ruined Castles. 
Hanging Vineyards. Railroad Tunnels. Bingen. By Rail to 
Heidelberg. Changing Cars. Difficulties of Speech. Feather 
bed Coverings. River Neckar. The Castle— Its Beauty. Meet- 
ing Friends. 

Saturday, Sejjtemher 2. — Left in the train at 7:40, 
from the Victoria Station for Dover. We ran rapidly 
the eighty miles, at the rate of fifty-two miles per 
honr, through Canterbury, which we could not stop 
to see, across another great chalk region, till passing 
through Chatham, Ave reached the Channel at Dover. 
The day was calm as possible, and we went across to 
Calais — twenty-one miles — without a ripple. Not one 
passage in a hundred is so still. We watched the 
lofty chalk cliffs of Dover as they receded ; till the 
lower ranges of the French coast, came into view; and 

1 3 



186 London to Heidelberg. 

in one hundred minutes from our embarking we are 
in France, a truly foreign land. Now, the passports 
must be shown, which we had vised by the French 
Consul in London. We crowd through the throng, 
loaded with our luggage. We pass the ordeal of the 
jabber, and examination, and finally we are in the 
cars swiftly leaving Calais en route for Brussels in 
Belgium. The day is intensely hot. There is noth- 
ing very noticeable as wx slowly ascend from the low 
and flat sea coast. The water in the fields for miles 
is very near the surface, and great ditches are cut as 
boundaries and drains, for the small farm holdings, 
and the produce of the land is floated off in huge 
skiff's, pushed through the slime and weeds of the 
sluggish ditches, instead of by land carriage. Soon 
we go through another custom house, and passport 
examination, as we cross the frontier and enter 
Belgium. 

At evening we arrive at Brussels, and put up at the 
Hotel Mengelle. We are shown to a fine room with 
rich and massive mirrors and furniture. A profusion 
of clean water is supplied, with the cleanest possible 
appointments. After supper, as is our wont, I betake 

myself to pen and ink, and W goes out to see by 

gas-light the strange and tortuous streets. 

Septembers. — Sabbath. A beautiful day. At Lon- 
don, just as we left, I got letters, with printed slips 
from the Cleveland papers, giving intelligence of the 



London to HeideTberg. 187 

dreadful steamboat explosion od Chatauque lake. My 
heart has been with our dear friends thus over- 
whelmed in sorrow, almost constantly since the sad 
intelligence. I have written to-day to Mr. and Mrs. 

W , though I am still in great suspense as to the 

result. Nothing can avail them in this great trial 
but Divine solace. 

Belgium is a papal country ; and this morning we 
went to the Cathedral service. The interior is very 
imposing; it is of white stone from pavement to the 
lofty ceiling resting on groined stone arches. It has 
a vast nave and aisles. At the east end is a choir, 
with the high altar, and the west end is appropriated 
to the great organ in its loft, and the singers. On 
the sides of the aisles next the walls are carved wood 
confessionals, each with a seat for the priest, and two 
kneeling stands for the deluded devotees, who are 
taught that ecclesiastics — it may be greater sinners 
than they — can absolve from sin. Midway in the 
nave is the preaching pulpit. On the massive stone 
columns between the nave and aisles are brackets, on 
which stand gigantic marble statues of the twelve 
apostles. There are many paintings. The pulpit is 
a marvel of the most elaborate wood carving. It 
represents the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the 
garden of Eden ; also the proclamation of salva- 
tion by winged angels; and standing on the lofty 
canopy is a statue of Mary piercing the head of a 
dragon with a spear. Foliage of the most perfect 



188 London to Heidelberg. 

detail — representing twining vines and leaves — adorns 
the whole structure. There is running around the 
cathedral, the never absent monk's walk, just below 
the clerestory. On the pavement in the nave, near 
the transept, an altar is erected for the Virgin. She 
stands, a life size statue, holding her child, arrayed 
:n a magnificent damask silk robe, with costly lace 
and wearing a crown profusely adorned with gold and 
jewels. She, and the babe, are of exquisite beauty as 
works of art. A short distance in front, a pyramid 
of lighted candles is kept constantly burning. Poor 
devotees are kneeling here ; their lips rapidly moving 
in the whispered mummery of prayers told olf with 
beads. The service was consummately adapted to 
make a sensuous impression upon the ignorant and 
credulous. The singing was of surpassing beauty. 
The great organ rolled the richest chorals through 
the vast structure, and trained singers with the 
musical culture of Prima Donnas, took part in 
the service. The whole ritual was a prolonged song, 
and recitative. The priests, full robed, were seen 
engaged in their pantomime before the altar in the 
extreme end of the choir. The organ and singers at 
the west end, would burst out into song for a few 
minutes, then ceasing, concealed male singers near 
the distant altar, would respond in the richest strains. 
At intervals, bells, concealed in the nave, would ring 
out a silver toned and startling signal for some 



London to HeideJ])erg. 189 

change or period in the service. x\nd this theyAVould 
call Diyine worship. What a mockery ! 

In the afternoon we attended the Protestant chapel 
(Episcopal) kept np by the English church. On our 
return to our hotel, we went into another Eomish 
church, elaborately built in the Grecian style, where 
we saw in part the celebration of High Mass. I will 
not detail the tedious and meaningless ritual ; but 
will refer only to the climax. After long pantomime 
performances by the priests, variously arrayed, before 
the altar, — passing and repassing each other ; taking 
up the great Missal, and moving to the other side of 
the altar, putting it down again ; with chants, singmg, 
and bell ringing long drawn out, there was at last a 
period. A full robed ecclesiastic now ascended the 
altar steps, and opening the doors, took out the golden 
wafer, and lifting it aloft, led in a procession of priests 
and boys in service around the altar. Soon, he placed 
it in front again, and with the whole train engaged 
in repeated bowings and genuflections. Meanwhile 
the organ is heard in full chorus — sounding bells are 
ringing — a boy behind the chief official is jerking and 
tossing up rapidly what seemed to be a silver ball 
held by a cord — and so, with clangor, and din, and 
mummery the ceremonial ended : which to, me seemed 
pagan, instead of Christian, and revolting to all true 
ideas of Divine worship. Then, a fat priest came 
out, followed by boys; and passing down the nave, 



190 London to Heidelberg. 

scattered about upon worshipers, with a short handled 
brush, the holy water. N'o wonder that those whose 
only idea of Christianity, is that it consists in such 
mummery, should, when emancipated from the super- 
stition, discard it as unworthy of the human intellect. 
But will we, who are Protestants, and have been made 
free, show a living earnestness in our devotion to 
true soul liberty, and spiritual service, which will im- 
press others with the conviction that we are equally 
devout, and sincere, with these poor blinded devotees 
to pagan rites ? May God grant that we may^. In 
the evening we went again to the cathedral, and heard 
a sermon in German — to a very few attendants* 
Preaching the word of life is no part of papacy. 

September Jf. — Left Brussels this morning by train 
for Cologne. Day, bright and hot. We soon reach 
an inclined plane, and are let down by an iron rope 
into the valley of the Meuse, descending four hundred 
and fifty feet to Liege. Ascending the opposite slope 
we go through many tunnels, traversing a country 
rich in coal and other mines ; and largely engaged in 
iron manufacturing. At evening we reach the dirty 
city of Cologne. We are besought the first thing, at 
our hotel, (the Royal Victoria,) to buy a case of Co- 
logne water; wiiich we did, to bring home. We take 
a guide and go at once to the great cathedral, now 
being finished. It is a wonderful pile. We have full 



London to Heidelberg. 191 

views from varions points, and I will not pause to 
dwell upon details. 

The next morning we embarked in a beautiful 
steamer, to ascend the storied Rhine. Dream of my 
life ! Is it real, that I am on these waters ? — not classic, 
it may be, but every inch, living with historic interest : 
the Rhine which for tw3 thousand years has been 
the wager of battle between the great European 
powers. Rome possessed it ; and when Rome fell, the 
rising empires faced each other on its banks ; seized 
its impreguable heights and built strongholds — proof 
against everything but modern cannon — on every 
eagle's nest along its borders. The Rhine ! broad — 
bluish green — rushing northward to the sea in full 
torrent — its waters vast and mighty, as the great 
mountains in which it takes its rise. Yes, we are on 
the Rhine. Not a word too much has been said, or 
written, in praise of its wondrous charms and beauty. 
We go south ascending the swift waters, but our fleet 
steamer is fully equal to the task. At first, leaving 
Cologne, the banks are low and level, in rich meadow 
reaches of wide valley. The view of the city, as we 
leave it, is never to be forgotten. High above every- 
thing with one exception, towers the old cathedral, 
which when finished, is to be the tallest and grandest 
gothic pile on earth. Next in size to the cathedral, 
we see the old Town House, with its great weird, 
spire, and vast hall below — the scene of many a rough 



192 London to Heidelberg. 

encounter of turbulent burgomasters, of lordly barons, 
and of martial kings. Cologne was an old Roman 
town. Here, Agrippina, the mother of the Emperor 
ISTero, was born, and lived, fifty years before Christ. 
She led here, a Roman colony of veterans. Cologne 
too was one of the old Hanse towns — a free city — 
when there was freedom from barbarous baronial rule 
nowhere, but in the banded cities. The cathedral was 
the conception of the prince of poet architects, — Gerad 
of Riehl, — who laid the foundation in 1248. His orig- 
inal plan, on parchment, has been found, after it had 
been many years lost ; and the mighty spires, to be 
the tallest in the world, are now going up in exact 
adherance to the old plan. Those Grothic architects 
were the great poets of the medieval times — writing 
in stone. But we cannot linger at Cologne. Our 
swift steamer soon brings us to the old university 
city of Bonn, royally seated in queenly beauty on the 
Rhine. Now the shores lift up into picturesque 
heights. Across from Bonn, lie the seven mountain 
peaks, some of them commanded by vast old castles ; 
and all of them girt from their seats far up their sides 
with vineyards, which for centuries have produced 
noted wines. We are intent in passing, upon the 
tortuous streets of the old city of Bonn, and its great 
university buildings. As we ascend, my eye is fixed, 
as with glass in hand, I see the marvelously beautiful 
homes which cluster on the river banks. I see a 



London to Heidelberg. 19S 

wealth of rich and ever varied wreathing of drooping 
shrubbery. There are running creepers of every hue, 
trained in long festoons around arbors, across sweet 
bits of the brightest and softest lawn, and forming 
many a delightful bower, in which tea tables stand — 
for the Germans eat much in the open air. But new 
views ever demand attention. I cannot name ih^ hun- 
dredth part of that which charmed us through the 
long bright day, with ever new aspects of the castles, 
which throng on the heights on either shore. Not a 
lofty peak, not a bold and massive rock, but in the 
long past, some rough warrior had seized, and held as 
a citadel, frovvming defiance upon all without. Many 
a legend and tale of romance, many a poem, have 
taken rise from these storied towers, which sit now in 
solitude, their "banquet halls deserted," and the soften- 
ing gloom of ages resting on their scenes of turbulence 
and blood. As we ascend, the vineyards multiply and 
cluster on every rocky mountain side. These decay- 
ing rocks of volcanic origin, furnish a specific food 
for the vine; and wherever an inch of soil can be 
found for a root, the vintag-er climbs. In many a vine- 
yard that we saw, you would think the vinedresser 
would need wings to reach them, and ropes to fasten 
him to the sheer rocky steeps. As we ascend, the 
current increases in swiftness, until at last, we see a 
great floating flouring mill, moored out in the stream, 
with a huge water wheel driven by the rushing waters. 



19^ Lo7idon to HeiMharg. 

There are railroads on each bank, and we see swift 
trains passing in and out of frequent tunnels cut 
through the rocky headlands. These modern trains 
are mightier than castles and old warriors, to shape 
the destiny of states. 

As eyening sets in we reach Bingen with its clus- 
tering lights. 

" Sweet Bingen I on the Rhine." 

Here we leave the riyer, and take the rail for Heidel- 
berg. It is bright moonlight as we wind among the 
hills. We met here with quite amusing difficulties of 
speech. We had gotten the impression from some 
source, that before reaching Heidelberg there would 
be a change of cars. Loaded as we were with pack- 
ages, which had steadily accumulated from our little 
purchases by the Avay, the prospect of changing — 
especially at night — was most formidable ; in a land 
too where we could communicate only in T3utch or 
French — we hardly knew which — and we could speak 
little of either. Oyercome by fatigue as the night 
wore on, we dozed in our seats ; but coastantly haunted 
by the prospect of a change, which would need to be 
rapidly effected, yet we could find no one who could 
tell us 'wliere, or lohen. Ki last the train stopped sud- 
denly in a long depot ; and we heard a man calling 
aloud some notice to passengers as he swiftly went by. 

Springing to his feet, though only half awake, W 

now felt that he must know whether our time had 



London to Heideliterg. 195 

come; anything would be better than longer suspense. 
Rushing to the car window, which was let down, — 
though our compartment was locked — and with a con- 
fused conviction that something must now be done — 
whether in Dutch, French, or what not, he hardly 
knew — he hailed the passer, shouting, ^'Monsieur! 
Monsieur!" This arresting the man's attention, he 

stopped and looked toward us. W seizing his 

opportunity, with an emphasis which shook his 
whole frame, shouted, ^'Monsieur! Out — come — 
HERE?" For a moment the man looked doubtingly; 
but soon concluding, probably, that there was a 

crazy man in the car, he started on. W having 

for once exhausted his powers of speech, threw him- 
self on the seat in mute resignation to the course of 
events. 

At midnight we enter the fine old city of Heidel- 
berg, and find our way to our Hotel de Baden. 
Ushered into our bedroom, we are greeted with a 
sight inspiriting when the mercury ranges from 
seventy-five to eighty degrees, of feather heds, and 
FEATHER COVERLETS ! The latter we tumble upon 
the bare clean floor, and soon we are asleep. 

September 6. — Brilliant morning. We are up be- 
times to resume our sight conquests. Engaging a fly, 
with a bright Dutch driver, we go trundling and 
jabbering up the steep mountain side — overlooking 



196 London to HeicMherg. 

the swift river JSTeckar — to the great castle, seated 
hisrh above the town. We wind and turn on the hill- 
side, in and out, until finally, — seeing great stretches 
of valley below, of hillside beyond, clothed with vine- 
yard and forest — we go above even the castle, to a 
Swiss chalet, perched as a lookout over all. Here, as 
we stood on the balcony, looking intently dowm, who 
should give us a warm greeting of delighted surprise, 
but our old traveling companions in Ireland and the 

AYelsh mountains. Messieurs L and W . We 

went together to the castle, the finest ruin w^e had 
seen. I iiave vivid pictures of its rich facades, still 
strangely beautiful in their sculptured stone tracery, 
and thronging statues. I have pictures also of the 
big w^ne tuns — one of them holding fifty thousand 
gallons. We bought, too, other views which you will 
delight to see. 



CHAP TEE XVIII. 



BADEN" BADEN TO THE ALPS. 



Baden Baden. Beautiful Gardens. Music. Evening Crowds in 
Open Air. Conversazione. Gambling Tables. Players. Great 
Demoralization. Strasbourg. Fortiflcations, Filth. Cathe- 
dral. Astronomical Clock. Switzerland. Basle. Fish Market. 
Miinster. Ancient Council Room. Current Ferry. The Alps. 

Bidding adieu to our friends, we take the train for 
Baden Baden, the great gambling watering place. 
We arrive at 7 o'clock, and after supper at our Hotel 
Ville de Baden, we go up to the great rendezvous. As 
we approach it we pass through beautiful groves, and 
gardens, and come to brilliantly lighted streets. We 
see great crowds of people walking or seated in the 
open air, listening to the music of an exquisitely 
trained band, of many stringed and wind instruments. 
Probably no band in Europe is superior. Covering 
two sides of a great square are shops, arranged as a 
bazaar, with the most elegant appointments of 
counter, case, and plate glass ; and the most varied 
and dazzling display of the costliest jewelry. We see 
great diamonds, and flashing gems of every hue, set 



198 Baden Baden to the Alps. 

in massive gold ; also lavish ornaments of pearl, and 
others of blood coral. AYe see a profusion of the 
richest silks and laces, and all that can so irresistibly 
tempt the fair and frail daughters of Eve, to say 
nothing of mayi^s susceptibility to such attractions. 
At Baden money is often lavishly made at the gaming 
table ; and that so suddenly acquired is sure to be 
prodigally spent, to please either self or some petted 
favorite ; and so, the silken, jeweled, golden net is set 
in the sight of many birds, and silly throngs are 
snared, and take pleasure in it while any money lasts 
which they can clutch, it matters too often little 
whether by fair means or foul. But we now approach 
the great magnet where Satan reigns and ruins. In 
its front are hundreds of all sizes and sexes, seated 
at tables, drinking wine and beer in the open air. 
Young girls, and beans; richly dressed belles, and 
cocknies ; bedizzened military officers, attracting the 
fair as candles draw moths; middle-aged married men 
and women, and the aged ditto ; pure, soft, sweet 
faced young girls, with the unmarred innocence of 
danger of inexperienced youth; even delicate little 
children, who ought hours before to have been in bed; 
flaunting and brazen women ; and debauched roues: 
all, in one mazed and glittering melee. For this is a 
great fashionable watering place. And must not mul- 
titudes, as bound in chains to the great lures of folly 
and of fashion, come annually here ? But we are yet 
to see the magnet. Look up now at this showy pile, 



Baden Baden to the Alps. 199 

glittering- with gilding and white enamel. See the 
colonnade of eight Corinthian columns forming a 
spacious portico. The lofty windows are ablaze with 
the lights within. We enter, and pass through the 
yast " Conversazione," as the glib tongued devil calls 
it. Passing the bar, with every costly wine and stim- 
ulant, we enter the ranges of long drawing rooms. A 
regiment would find ample space to parade in these. 
We approach first the roulette table. The crowd stand- 
ing around it is six or eight deep ; on either side 
opposite the wheel, are the owners of the bank — the 
arch imps in the throng, — they have before them long 
piles of gold and silver coin, clean and gleaming from 
the mint. Around the table are seated thirty to 
forty eager men and women, who venture their money 
at each time that one of the bankers — so called — 
deftly twirls the wheel, and shoots the little ivory 
ball. The number it lodges on, in the whirl, decides 
the stake; and with long handled rakes the money is 
rapidly drawn hither or thither, according to the 
issue of the throw. We see money in heaps rapidly 
lost and won, but get no clue to the method of the 
madness ; nor would we if we could. We next go to 
one of the great card tables. Here there are piles of 
money, and throngs of players. Only one plays the 
cards, and decides the ventures of all. There are more 
women playing here. Some are evidently French. 
They would, with frenzied infatuation, redress here, 
the monied losses of their terrible chastisements. 



200 Baden Baden to the Alps. 

What hard flinty faces you see grouped around these 
tables. Great fat, showily dressed, and jeweled 
women, with hardly a trace of the true woman left 
in any feature ; young women too, held as by a spell, 
within the fatal lure ; and men, whose cold leaden self- 
ishness would clutch without scruple the last dollar of 
an orphan's patrimony. But we have seen enough ; 
and we leave this gilded pandemonium. The quick- 
ness of the man who plays the cards for all — his 
celerity in swiftly manipulating them and seeing at a 
glance the issue — his rapid countin,o^ of large amounts 
of money, deftly seizing the coin from the shining 
piles before him, and with unerring accuracy of aim 
flinging in front of each of the players the amount of 
their winnings ; or sweeping the stakes of the losing 
players into his own coffers, — were all remarkable. 
There was instant and implicit acquiescence by all in 
the swift decisions of the one handling the cards. Ko 
wranglings ; all was apparent harmony. But beneath 
the smooth and still exterior, what a fatal crop of heart 
blightings was being rapidly reaped here ! What des- 
perate ventures, and keenly felt reverses ! What bitter 
malignities in the hearts of the losers, as others 
possessed the coveted treasure; and influences no less 
malign upon the hearts of the winners, confirming 
them in an unscrupulous and grasping selfishness, 
which is itself the most intense and deadly sin. 
Baden Baden ! — name of deep and damning reproach 
to the petty prince who legalizes in his little realm, 



Baden Baden to the Alps. 201 

this stupendous gambling wliicli lures multitudes to 
ruin, because it yields to bim a large revenue. Better 
that he and his dependents were all deposed and ban- 
ished, than to live and riot in petty state upon such 
resources, 

September 7. — Splendid day — th ough hot. ff early 
in the train for Strasbourg. Here too a mighty and 
deadly game and stake of war, was played. We swept 
in our train in a long circle around the fortifications, 
before entering the so recently beleagured and cap- 
tured city. How completely we are disenchanted ! 
In our simplicity, haying heard and read so much of 
Strasbourg as a mighty and impregnable fortress, we 
had fancied the city to be a great walled stronghold 
perched high on some commanding acropolis, and 
bristling with defiant towers and battlements ; a city 
that could not be hid ; but which would ever thrust 
itself upon the view of all in the whole region where 
it was enthroned, — a very Gibraltar. But how un- 
like all this, the real Strasbourg ! A low, obscure, 
and intensely filthy city, spread out wide, flat, and 
slimy, upon what would pass well for a great stretch 
of wet Dutch bottom land. It is true that seen from 
afar, the weird old cathedral lifts itself above all like 
a gigantic high shouldered and hump backed man 
in a crowd of pigmies. Yet nevertheless, here, as 
elsewhere, appearances are most deceptive; for Stras- 
bourg was, and is, notwithstanding its low and flat 

1 4 



202 Baden Baden to the Alps. 

position, a great military fortress and citadel. Lofty 
and massive stone walls are not strong defences 
against modern cannon. Tliey may soon be breached 
and battered down. But the strong defences are 
eartliworlcs, and these surround in long lines of cir- 
cumvallation the entire city ; within which vast armies 
may be housed and fed, and great military stores 
accumulated. We went on entering, to the Hotel 
Angleterre, attracted simply by the English name; 
being heartily tired of trying to make ourselves intel- 
ligible to our fellow creatures by jabbering a gibberish 
of Dutch French. Well, verily, we found waiters who 
could understand some English ; but such tilth ! The 
very memory still oflTends the outraged stomach. The 
fact is, Strasbourg is all filthy ; still reeking in the 
stenches of a great beleagured army quartered on the 
town, swarming in every dwelling, and like vermin, 
preying upon, while begetting uncleanness. A vast 
part of the city lies in ruins, battered down into heaps 
of crumbling and fallen walls, by the Prussian shells 
and cannon in the bombardment. They are rapidly 
rebuilding it ; for now the conquering Prussians are 
causing it to rise from its ruins, and become for them 
an impregnable stronghold. The principal attraction 
is the cathedral. It was planned for two towers, but 
only one is completed. This is said to be the loftiest 
in Europe. Its twin tower by its side, about half 
built, in some points of view greatly detracts from the 



Baden Baden to the Alps. 203 

effect of the height of the one completed. When how- 
ever you look up at the tower by itself, as it lifts its 
stone tracery nearly tive hundred feet, it being finished 
to the extreme top in open airy stone work, the effect 
is very striking. The interior of the cathedral is of 
marked beauty and grandeur. It is Norman Gothic — 
the vast pillared majesty and strength of the Norman, 
and in transition from this, the pointed, rising, grace- 
ful and airy lines of the Gothic. There is much 
wealth lavished in this cathedral upon the adornment 
with gold, jewels, and paintings, of the several shrines 
of Our Lady, and Madonnas. The real attraction, 
however, is the great astronomical clock, which is 
made to represent the changes in the solar system of 
sun, earth, moon, and planets, for a thousand years. 
It is wound up once a year. Faithfully it keeps on 
its movement, long after he who made it has ceased 
to appear among men. But the intellect which con- 
ceived and brought into effective relation this vast 
piece of mechanism — so complicated and yet so accu- 
rate, so full of counterpoises, and compensations, to 
prevent what else would result in confused irregular- 
ities — is certainly not less diiraUe than its own handi- 
work. There are other realms where mental time and 
power are put forth and measured, beside these lunar 
and solar spheres ; and, in some higher, and it may 
be grander "mansion'' of our Father, the mind that 
brought this clock into being and set it running 
parallel in movement with the great works of the 



20 Ji. Baden Baden to the Alps. 

Creator, is doubtless now a nobler and purer worshiper 
of Him whose name is Holy and who inhabiteth 
eternity. I will not stop here to dwell upon the 
curiosities of this clock; its revolving train of the 
twelve apostles; and the crowing of the great cock 
when the hour strikes twelve. The great marvel is 
the astronomical feature, by which the earth, moon 
and planets appear now^ just as they are in the uni- 
verse, in their varied and ever changing phases and 
relations — long after the clock maker to human view 
is dead. 

While standing in the crowd around this clock, 
waiting and intently w^atching for it to strike twelve, 
and start its apostles, arouse the sleeping cock to life, 
and aw^ake the cherub angel seated beside the dial, to 
turn over the hour glass it so patiently holds ; who 

should I find there but our Miss G of Cleveland. 

What a greetiug we had ; joyful, and yet so full of the 
painful memories of the dreadful disaster to her, and 
our dear friends at home! We spent the remainder 
of the day together ; and I endeavored to alleviate, as 
far as I might, her keen sorrow under a bereavement 
which she feels to be a sore personal affliction. 

At evening we took the train, and at 8:50 arrived 
in Basle — Switzerland — putting up at the Hotel de la 
Cigogne, or " Stork Hotel." The next morning we 
found that we were on " Stadthausgasse" street. Go- 
ing to our open windows — for the night had been 
warm — we saw in front of our hotel an image of a 



Baden Baden to the Alps. 205 

stork. Just opposite, in the second story across the 
narrow street of not over thirt3^-tive feet, was a sign, 
"Vogt, Taillenr;" and below at a little distance to 
our left in a small triangular opening, a fountain with 
gushing waters filling an enormous stone tank, and 
crowds of men, women and children, with tubs, pails, 
pans, kettles, kegs, and jugs, who were obtaining 

water. Soon after W went out in quest of a bath 

house, and after bathing returned, telling me that the 
fountain was also a fish mar~ket^ and that living hsh 
were kept there in the multitudinous tubs, and sold 
alive, I then went down, and sure enough, there 
were great pickerel, and pike, and trout, and eels too, 
caught in the " Black Forest" on the Hartz moun- 
tains, and brought in to be sold alive. The purchaser 
selected his fish, and then the seller seized it, tapped 
it on the back of the head with a good sized door key, 
which instantly stiffened it, and then the buyer went 
oflP sure that he had fresh fish. I found further, by 
looking up in an inquiring mood at the front of 
our hotel, that its normal name was " Gasthof Zum 
Storchen." Are you not enlightened? I was. In 
the morning we visited the fine old cathedral here, 
called the Mtinster. The great roof is covered with 
ornamental tile of many colors, arranged in diamonds, 
the effect of which is quaint and marked. The cathe- 
dral in the interior is very pleasing. The proportions 
beautiful, and style Eomanesque. There were the 
nave and double aisles, and choir, but no transepts. 



206 Baden Baden to the Alps, 

Ascending by a flight of steps from the choir, we enter 
the chapter house, or council hall; kept as it was 
when a council of some five hundred ecclesiastics was 
held in it, continuousl}^ in session from 1431 to about 
1443, attempting to reform the Papal church, and 
finally deposing Pope Eugene IV. He, in return, 
excommunicated the council, which finally broke up, 
leaving Pope and Popish faith and practice but little, 
if any, changed for the better, as the fruit of their 
long endeavor. The fact is, it is extremely difficult 
for councils, or others, to reform fallacy into truth, 
and corruption into purity, without abrogating the 
former and substituting the latter. However, the 
long agony was far from fruitless, for it was a part, 
by no means unimportant, of the great throes from 
which finally the Reformation in fact was born. The 
service in this cathedral is Protestant. There are 
many curiosities here, of old paintings and of rare 
old stained glass in great perfection. Back of the 
old Miinster is a grove of enormous horse chestnuts, 
crowning a beautiful height looking down upon the 
blue and swift Rhine, which, just emerging from its 
Alpine sources, is rushing in resistless volume, — as if 
intently conscious of its mission. — to the all absorbing, 
and in turn the all imparting sea. On the other side 
is Klein Basel, with its busy population. A strong 
iron wire is strung across from the high banks, and a 
pulley made to run upon it. A ferry boat is attached 
to the wire by a chain connecting with the pulley. 



Baden Baden to the Alps. 207 

The helm is so held as to bring the side of the boat at 
such an angle with the current, that the rushing 
waters striking the boat side as the wind strikes a 
sail, sweep the i'erry from shore to shore, with the 
speed and power of steam. We went over, and back ; 
thus again, paying our profound respects to the 
regnant Rhine. 



CHAPTEE XIX. 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS, 



First view of Snow-covered Mountains. Lucerne. The Lake. Re- 
flections at night. Zurich. Hotel Baur au Lac. Beautiful 
Garden. Lake Views. Crystal Water. Sabbath Service. Gross 
Miinster. Statue of Charlemagne. Afternoon Service. Blind 
Precentor and Organist. Pulpit in which Zwingle Preached. 
House where he lived. Grandeur of the Scenery around Zurich 
See. 

In the early afternoon we left for Lucerne. Now 
entering the Alpine region, we are swept in our train 
through frequent tunnels ; around mountain sides ; 
along and across winding and often lovely valleys; 
until toward .sundown we come in sight of the snow 
clad Alps. This was my first view of mountains lifted 
into the realm of everlasting snow. We had been 
vigilant to catch the first impression; and now, there 
were the giant heights in a long range, seated far up 
in the deep heaven, holding their vast and stainless 
breasts ever upward, as if in adoration of their Maker. 
It was a life long dream, at last realized. We were all 
rapt in vision. We changed from side to side of the 



Sivitzerland and the Al2)s. 209 

car in eager gaze, to get every new expression, as the 
train kept threading the winding valleys. 

At early twilight we reached Lucerne, and put up 
at our Hotel Schweitzerhof, fronting the beautiful 
lake. Just above us on the right, as if actually over 
our heads, were the ragged peaks of Pilatus ; and on 
the left, the pointed cone-like top of Ehigi; while in 
front, bounding the whole horizon, was the lofty snow- 
clad range, which had riveted our gaze in the after- 
noon. Retiring to bed, I awoke in the night. There 
was the sound of the rush of a mountain stream, and 
the occasional subdued surge of waves on the beach 
of the lake. I could not sleep ; for those white visions 
of worshiping mountain shrines continually passed in 
view in my crowded and busy memory. I could find 
no words so full of living meaning as those of David. 
I felt that I Avas in a hallowed presence. I felt that I 
could say with him, in sincere adoring : 

" Lift up your heads, O ye gates ; and be ye lifted up, ye everlast- 
ing doors ; and the King of glory shall come in." 
" Who is this KiDg of glory ? 
The Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory." 

And what was I in such a presence ? — the creature of 
a breath I Nay more — a guilty sinner. But I thought 
gratefully of that Eternal Love which revealed itself 
in Christ; a love more glorious and stainless than 
those snow white heights. I would be in harmony 
with that Divine Love ; I would be satisfied could I be 



210 Sivitzerland and the Alps. 

in that likeness; I would desire to worship ^4n the 
beauty of holiness/' I pondered upon the mercies 
which had thronged through my whole life. I saw 
with some feeble justness of discernment the hateful- 
ness of the sins which so perpetually ravaged my 
heart ; and I felt that I could say truly with David ; 

" Who can understand his errors?— cleanse thou me from secret 
faults. 

Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins ; 

Let them not have dominion over me ; 

Then shall I be upright,— and I shall be innocent from the great 
transgression. 

Let the words of my mouth, and the meditations of my heart, 

Be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my Strength, and'-my Re- 
deemer." 

Septemher 9. — Day cloudy. Mountains all veiled. 
We left in the afternoon, — having spent a good part 
of the morning in repacking our luggage, — for Zurich, 
to spend the Sabbath there. We arrived at evening 
and took rooms at the Hotel Baur au Lac — which, as 
the name indicates, is on the border of the lake. 

Sunday, SejJteynher 10. — Glorious day. Our hotel 
fronts a beautiful garden, kept in the highest condi- 
tion, which is bounded on the one side by one arm of 
the outlet of the Lake, and on another by the Lake of 
Zurich, or "Zurich See." Nothing can be lovelier 
than this location. On the edge of the outlet is a 
promenade, some ten feet above the water, and shaded 
by a row of Plane trees, headed down, so as to render 



Sivitzerland and the Alps. 211 

the growth of the lower limbs more luxuriant. The 
water below is clear as crystal. You see the tish in 
swarms; and now, a rower in a small skiff pushes out 
toward the lake . His little boat looks as if riding in 
the air. Upon the bottom of the swift stream long 
green water grass grows in little patches, and streams 
down with the current in festoons, in which the fish 
find covert and grateful shelter, as men do in forests. 
There are some special beauties in this lake bordered 
garden which I will notice here. A peculiar grass, I 
never saw before ; the tufted heads, soft, and silvery as 
the feathery plumage of a bird of Paradise. I plucked 
some of the heads, hoping that the seeds might be 
ripe enough to grow at home. I saw here the largest 
Tamarax trees I had ever seen — the boles big as an 
oak, — and the green tufted heads of striking beauty. 
There is a rock fountain here, full of great stalactites, 
and stalao-mites. The water shushes from a score of 
fissures in the stone, and falls, with cooling sounds, 
into hollows and basins fringed with ferns and flow- 
ering aquatic plants, and runs away into shaded 
grottoes till lost to eye and ear. Birds are flitting 
merrily about these tempting basins. They trip upon 
the edges ; they bathe in the water ; they shake their 
wet wings and feathers, as in ecstasy they carol in 
the bright morning sunlight. But it is time for 
breakfast and church service. I have had a half hour 
of heart worship in this glorious temple of lake, air, 
trees, mountain and sunlight. ^ 



Switzerland mid the Alj^s. 

After breakfast, we went to tlie English Episcopal 
chapel. Two clergymen at the hotel — snmmer pas- 
sengers like ourselves — having been duly robed in the 
surplus surplices, took part in the readings, with the 
usual sacerdotal tone. The preacher was the chap- 
lain — probably a native Swiss, v/ith broken English. 

A fair sermon, which W liked better than I; 

being interested in his exegesis of the text. Still I 
was refreshed by the service. In the afternoon we 
went across the river Limmat, which issues from the 
lake, and ascending quite a rise, we enter old Zurich, 
and reach the Gross Milnster, with its great towers, 
and sharp steeple planted (Swiss fashion) on the 
ridge of the roof far back toward the rear of the 
building. This is the cathedral, of Zurich. It is 
built sternly in the Romanesque style, of about the 
twelfth century. Charlemagne contributed toward its 
erection; and in honor of this a statue of the renown- 
ed sovereign, seated, with gilded crown, and sword, is 
seen high up in the belfry of the west tower. In the 
position as seen from below, the foreshortening of the 
statue is so awry, that the emperor — in payment for his 
benefactions — appears to go down to posterity as 
though badly hump-backed. We enter the church, 
and find it pretty well filled for the afternoon sermon; 
but nearly all are women, there being hardly a dozen 
men, including ourselves. We took the first convenient 
seat, in all innocence ; and while mutely surveying 
the sturdy columns of solemn stone which line the 



Switzerland and the Alps. 213 

nave and hold up the ponderous groined roof, we are 
motioned to leave our places amid the women and 
repair to some ancient stalls, which monks occupied 
in old time. Of course we readily adapted ourselves 
to the situation. The preacher first read the Scrip- 
ture from a desk, and then, during the singing, he 
climbed by a winding stairway, into a high pulpit, 
fastened to one of the great columns, from which 
he preached in German. I listened reverently, but 

hardly intelligently. W caught some of the 

utterances, and said it was a fair sermon. The sing- 
ing was congregational, led by a precentor who was 
blind, and he read, as he sang, itrith Ms fingers, from 
raised letters for the blind. His voice was rich and 
powerful. The organ seemed to be buried in the 
floor beneath the pulpit. The organist was nearly 
hidden behind his keys; but at the close, when he 
went out, we found that he, too, was blind, and infirm 
with an affection of the back. It v\'as in this pulpit, 
and this church, that Zwingle preached, and led the 
great Eeformation among the Swiss in the days of 
Luther — in some respects grander and greater even 
than Luther himself. 

After church, the sexton took us to the house 
where Zwingle lived. We stood in his study, looked 
out on the same little court-yard he saw, and were 
beside the same great porcelain stove which had often 
cheered him with its warmth. We saw his portrait 



21J^ S'witzerlayid and the Alps. 

there, as a young man, with a look of fervid conse- 
cration to the great conflict for truth. He is still 
gloriously yoting, though long ago among the ancients, 
he has passed away from earth. 

Eeturning to our hotel, the bright sunlight invited 
me to the lake border in the garden ; and now, seated 
with me on the Zurich end of the lake, let me try and 
tell you of what we see. On every side, the lake is 
bordered with cultivated and luxuriant slopes, studded 
with clustering villages. You see groups of dwell- 
ings seated amid green and peaceful plenty, environed 
with vineyards which stretch far up the hill-sides. 
You see many spires of churches, which are planted 
in all directions on the lower rise from the water. A 
busy, virtuous, and it is to be hoped, devout popula- 
tion rejoice in homes planted here. There is first a 
green rise on all sides, thus peopled, for some five 
hundred feet. As the dwellers are lifted higher, they 
command wider views of the lake and the mount- 
ains, which, if you saw them, you would not wonder 
that the Swiss heart so strongly loves. JSText, you see 
still lifted upward on all sides of the vast amphithea- 
tre, hills which begin to take on the solemn dignity of 
mountains. They are covered mainly with forests ; but 
in many a descending valley, on many a slope, though 
it be steep, of the rock disintegrated into congenial soil, 
the vineyaTds are lifted far upward. On the left or 
east, this second range completes the view, but on the 
right or west, and in the far front or south, it mounts 



Sivitzerland and the Alps. 215 

upward to a height like that of the Catskills on the 
Hudson — say three to four thousand feet. On the 
right, through openings in the hill-tops, you get 
glimpses, far away, of the high Alps. But directly 
in front, towering far above the range I have likened 
in height to the Catskills, is the Oberland Alps range — 
lifted into the realm of everlasting snow. How the 
eye lingers, and if for a moment diverted, turns again 
and again, to those gleaming heights; seeking to peer 
into the avrful mysteries which have their everlasting 
home in that strange, white, cloud-capped world — 
above the world which we inhabit. On the extreme 
left of this range, there is one mountain, which as a 
gigantic promontory terminates the range, and which, 
as if challenging the whole world to look upon it, 
heaves up on its extreme summit — seen often far 
above the clouds — a vast plateau of stainless snow. 
There it stands immovable in the very depths of 
heaven, as if it were formed to be a fitting altar for 
the sublimest worship. Again and again, on that 
Sabbath afternoon, as I sat gazing on those far, pure 
heights, did I send my soul upward to bow upon that 
great altar, in adoring homage to Him who " setteth 
fast the mountains, being girded w^ith power." He 
who can look upon these wonders, and be not per- 
petually reminded of their Maker; he who, created in 
God's image, and thus made capable of attaining to 
the knowledge of his Creator, has in the presence of 
these mountains, no word to utter of God — though 



216 Switzerlcmd and the Alps. 

he may be a devotee of science — must have in truth, 
'*the understanding darkened, being alienated" — 
however great may be his acquirements — " from the 
life of God, through the ignorance that is in him 
because of the blindness of the heart." He who 
talks of science in God's universe, and ignores God, 
whom to know, is the only everlasting science, is 
blind indeed. But, as Paul truly says, it is a blind- 
ness of the heart. It is because he will not know 
God, by diligently and devoutly seeking him in every 
way in which God reveals himself, that he remains in 
fatal ignorance of truth which is infinitely the, grand- 
est and most blessed that the soul can know, either 
here, or hereafter. 



OHAPTEE XX 



SWITZERLAND AND THE ALPS. 



Lucerne. Lion of Lucerne. Ride to Brienz. The Roads. Sarnen. 
Ancient Village Fountain. Hanging Mountain Pastures. 
Lungern. Goats from the Mountains. Night Ride over the 
Pass. Thunder Storm in the High Alps. Brienz. Giesbach. 
Interlaken. Jungfrau. LakeThun. Bern. Lausanne. Geneva. 
Martigny. Martigny le Bourg. Over the Col de Balme. Sum- 
mit of Col de la Forclaz. Pass of Tete Noire. Glacier du 
Trient. Narrow Escapes. First View of Mont Blanc. Aiguille 
Argentiere. Vale of Chamounix. 

Septemher 11. — We left Zurich in the train this 
morning, at 9:35, for Lucerne. The day is beautiful. 
Reaching Lucerne, we hire a coupee and coachee to 
take us to Brientz, over the Brunig Pass. Before 
leaving, we drove a moment to see the ^'Lion of 
Lucerne," erected in 1821, in memory of twenty-six 
officers and about seven hundred and sixty soldiers of 
the Swiss Guard, who were massacred August 10, 
1792, in defence of the Tuileries. This dying lion is 
twenty-eight and a half feet in length, and reclines 
in an excavation in the rock, itself sculptured from 
1 5 



218 Stvitzerland and the Alps. 

the face of the cliff where it lies. It appears to be 
dying from the fatal wound of a spear which trans- 
fixes the body. It is the work of the great Danish 
sculptor Thorwaldsen. The whole mien of the lion is 
majestic. There is an expression of anguish, and yet 
of power, very remarkable. It will bear to posterity, 
recorded in its native rock, a noble testimony to the 
genius of its author. 

Our ride is now winding for miles around lake 
margins, and directly under towering mountain 
heights. Our coachee does not know a word of 
English ; but with W 's scant Dutch and abund- 
ant signs, we manage to get on. Now and then I 
wish to take a still look through my opera glass at 
some striking peak ; and we shout from our seat to 
the driver, to hold on. But he knows no such word 
as stop ; and nothing but a dig in the back with my 
umbrella, brings him to consciousness. The roads — 
as are all roads in Europe — are perfect. At about 
1 o'clock, we reach the little town of Sarnen, and our 
coachee stops to bait his horse. The hostler of the 
little inn brings a box trough, and a loaf of coarse 
bread, made mainly of oats, but raised and baked, as 
if for human feeding : and this, cut in small chunks,4s 
the horse's dinner. While he is eating, we look at 
the antique fountain in the village square. The tank 
is hewn from solid stone, and bears the date of 1604. 
Above the gushing water, stands a rude stone statue, 
as of a monk in prayer, telling his beads. Time has 



Sivitzerland and the Alps. 219 

eaten into his face and form, by blurring all the out- 
lines; but still, as the water runs, he ever stands, 
and looks sky-ward as in prayer. If the attitude is 
intended to symbolize gratitude to the Great Giver, 
for such a boon as ever-running water, there are truth 
and beauty in the symbol. I thought, when looking 
at his time-scarred face, that he had stood and prayed 
mutely there, since fourteen years hefore the landing 
of the Pilgrims from the Mayflower on Plymouth 
Rock. What great world upheavals — what events of 
immeasurable meaning — have occurred since he first 
held his beads over that fountain ! On a hill to the 
right, are the ruins — partly renovated — of an old 
Landenburg castle, built in the Byzantine style. 

We are again on our way. We pass frequent 
shrines by the roadside — rude little coverts for a 
cross, or for some plaster efiigy of the virgin and 
child. All along the mountain sides above the nar- 
row valleys we are threading, cows are pastured, even 
to the very tops. Perched, as on some inaccessible 
and sheer slope high over our heads, are little rude 
barns, where the mountaineers store the grass cut 
from the loiver loastures — as they call them — around 
the barns: while the cows in summer are way above 
them in the heights out of sight. When winter 
comes, they are driven doivn to these eagle-nests, 
and wintered there, on the hay in these barns. The 
dwellings of these frugal Swiss are very rude. They 
are covered with small wooden shingles on the sides, 



220 Stvitzerland ami the Alps. 

laid on as are the scales of a fish, with rounded out- 
lines; and the roofs often covered with great split 
staves of wood, laid on three or four deep, and held 
in place by string-pieces of timber laid upon them; 
and npoD these great stones are piled, to hold all 
down in wind and rain. 

About 6 o'clock, we stopped for supper at Lungern, at 
the Hotel du Lion d'Or, or Golden Lion. This is a 
little hamlet nestled on a valley bottom, where once 
doubtless had been a lake, which breaking away from 
its mountain fastness, had left some two hundred 
acres of flat precious meadow land, on which "houses 
were now grouped, and the village church stood; 
while on all sides, as in one vast amphitheatre, the 
mountain heights look down upon this little populous 
bottom, seeming to lift around it barriers high as the 
stars which gleam in the horizon. After supper, as 
we stood in the narrow street, we heard quite away, a 
busy tinkling, tinkling of many bells, which gradually 
grew nearer, until soon there came from behind the 
cottages, in a long file down the steep mountain side, 
a flock of goats, with udders full of milk, which they 
had derived from the dew and mist-watered pastures, 
high over our heads; and were now driven down by 
a boy to their cottage owners. When the sounds 
grew nearer, we had noticed an old woman standing 
near the path, as if in expectation, and when the 
flock came, she tottered into their midst, and seizing 
the patient goat to which she had title, she led it to 



Siuitzerland and the Alps. 221 

her home, content to ^^-et her sustenance from this 
most valuable of her worldly goods. 

But we must go on, for night will fall around us in 
the mountains before we cross the pass. I had taken 
the precaution to see that our coupee was provided 
with lamps, and our coach ee with matches; and find- 
ing all right, we went on assured. It was after dark 
when we reached the summit, and thus the wide and 
wild and wonderfully picturesque views for which 
this pass is celebrated on the Brienz side, were lost 
to us. But we had another sensation. We had 
noticed for some time, gleams of lightning, among 
the high peaks; but supposing it only heat lightning, 
we thought little of it. Our lamps were now lighted ; 
and as we wound around the mountain tops, we had 
occasional views, far down, of the clustering lights in 
some hamlet in the deep valley bottoms. It was 
cheerful to see, in these great solitudes, that even 
here. He ^'setteth the solitary in families." But now 
the clouds thunder in earnest. We are in a veritable 
thunder storm, among Alpine peaks. Our coachee 
carefully puts up the cover over us, and well pro- 
tected from the now drenching rain, amid fierce gusts 
of wind, and frequent lightning flashes, and thunder 
peals echoing from height to height, we go down the 
long winding road cut from the rocky mountain side 
to Brienz. At frequent intervals, a vivid gleam of 
lightning reveals the lake and wide valley far below : 
and we are conscious of the loss of views of matchless 



22^2 Switzerland and the Alps. 

beauty, did the sun stream his flood of radiance into 
that yalley, instead of the lightning's fitful flash. 
Arrived at Brienz about nine, we are shown to our 
comfortable rooms in the Hotel de I'Ours Brienz. 
We open the Avindows for fresh air; and now, in the 
thick darkness, we see nothing but hear as if under 
us, the surge of the lake, which has been wave-tossed 
by the storm; when suddenly there was a blinding 
gleam of lightning, and instantly a crashing bolt of 
thunder, as though a broadside had been discharged. 
W , awed by this demonstration of human help- 
lessness amid these mountains, hastily closed our 
windows. It was the climax of the storm. Before 

long W is asleep; and I busy with my journal, 

until the lake waves have hushed their surging, and 
the morning hours are drawing on. 

Sejjtemher 12. — Beautiful morning after the rain. 
Silvery mists are seen softly rising along the mount- 
ain sides in the early sunshine. We are soon on the 
steamer for Interlaken. And now, as we launch out 
on this bright sheet, hemmed in on all sides by pre- 
cipitous mountains, we cannot believe it possible that 
in the darkness of the night before, we had come 
down from near the clouds; ifc seeming to be impossi- 
ble without wings. We soon reach — on the opposite 
side from Brienz — the noted falls of the Giesbach. 
The water, in a sheet of foam, falls into the lake ; but 
the main portion is higher up in the forest, near the 



Sivitzerland and the Alps. 223 

hotel, which is a great resort. We cannot stop to 
remain a night, and see the falls illuminated, though 
it is said to be a sight of wondrous beauty. As our 
boat stops at the wharf to take on passengers from 
the hotel, four Swiss girls are singing a wild Swiss 
air and chorus. The cliffs all around are of lime- 
stone, nearly as white as marble; and the waters of 
the lake, though clear, are milky with lime held in 
solution. Arriyed at Interlaken, we stop only for a 
brief lunch at our fine Hotel des Alpes, and we are 
on the way by omnibus to the boat on Lake Thun. 
As we pass, we see the precise yiew, seen in my glass 
stereoscopic plate. The snow-clad mountain in the 
center is the Jungfrau; and the Silberhorn glacier is 
seen on its lofty front. 

On the boat, we are happy to find President Loomis, 
of Lewisburg College, Pennsylyania, and his wife and 
son. We take a train at the other end of the lake, 
and soon reach Bern, where we lie oyer some two 
hours. Again we take the train, leaying this quaint 
old "Bear" city — with bears sculptured on all sides — 
and its business shops, back in the dark, behind a 
sidewalk for foot passers, cut into the buildings on 
their front. We cannot eyen lie oyer a train at Frie- 
burgh, to hear the great organ, but hurry on to Lau- 
sanne, arriying at about 11 P. M. at the Hotel du 
Faucon. Next morning, September 13, we left in the 
train for Greneya. We arriye at 10:30, and at the 
Hotel Beau Hiyage et Angleterre, we are gladdened 



221^ Sivitzerlmid and the Alps. 

by our packages of letters forwarded from London. 
We spend the day till 4 o'clock at Geneva; when we 
again take the train for Martigny, arriving at 10:30, 
and put up at the Hotel du Cigne. 

Sejjtem'ber IJftli. — Beautiful morning. We have en- 
gaged a mule and horse, (I riding the latter,) and a 
guide (called geede,) to cross the Col de Balme, into 
the valley of Chamounix. We wind our way for 
some two miles up the slowly rising valley, along the 
little stream named Drause, and through the long, 
dank, narrow street of Martigny le Bourg. The stone 
houses are tall, and the sun can strike their fronts in 
the close street, but a few minutes daily. They are 
densely populated ; but a poor, sallow, infirm, gloom- 
smitten, and dejected people here hover in their chill 
dwellings, amid reeking filth. N"o marvel that with 
lime water, and such habits, cretinism should abound. 

We soon begin rapidly to ascend. Within three 
hours we are four thousand eight hundred feet above 
the sea level as measured by my aneroid barometer. 
We have passed the valley on the left, which leads 
over the famed Simplon pass, into Italy, where Napo- 
leon crossed. We have passed also on the left fui-ther 
up, the valley which leads to the Hospice of St. Ber- 
nard. We command as we wind and turn upon the 
mountain side, ever changing views of Martigny, and 
its level valley bottom, in which flows the distant 
Rhone. We see foot hills on which cottages and little 



Sivifzerland and tlie Alps. 225 

farm patches are lifted high, bordering the pass we 
are ascending. AVe hear the incessant tinkle tinkle of 
the cow bells, as their wearers are busy feeding on the 
pastures so steep that it would seem needful to be tied 
on to stand, and with nowhere a flat place large 
enough to lie down. At frequent intervals, the 
toiling moun taineers have built a range of stone wall, 
above the road; and filling the space between the 
wall and hill side with coarse stony soil scraped 
from the slope above, have planted their little potato 
patches, and we often see women digging the scant 
crop, as a treasured winter store. The ash, oak, birch, 
and other trees, which grow^ naturally on our way, are 
all headed in, — the sprouting growth of each year cut 
off in the early fall, and the hoarded twigs and 
branches laid by for winter fuel. There are large 
chestnuts, and English walnuts, growing bravely on 
this declivity, with some beeches; but these, all 
heavily laden with nuts, are left uncut ; for their fruit 
yields food, instead of fuel, to the mountaineer. Far 
across the deep valley, on the precipitous mountain 
slopes, we see cows feeding, and women watching 
them; each faithful to the stern needs of their wild 
home. As we pass through the spruce groves — for 
there are no piiies upon these mountains — we find the 
air fragrant with their gum. We are now en the sum- 
mit of the Col de la Foi'claz, five thousand feet above 
the sea, and thirty-four hundred above Martigny — as 
I measure it. On the summit is a rock, and on the 



226 Sivitzerlancl mid the Alps. 

rock a rude cross iDlanted, with a niche cut into the 
upright post, to hold a little plaster image rudely 
shielded by a bit of glass. If prayer suggested by 
the symbol, does indeed lift the heart of any to the 
Great Crucified, the mute symbol has a ministry of 
blessing. Taking my thermometer from my pocket, 
I found it ranging high from bodily heat; for I had 
walked up a part of the slope, I Avas curious to know 
what was in fact the real local temperature; and while 
we stopped a few moments at the little inn, I took 
the glass out of its case, and laid it on a stone ^in the 
shade of the inn, and within the influence of the wind 
which blew quite freshly from a great snowtield which 
seemed not a mile off upon an adjacent mountain ; 
and I found that it marked 63° Farenheit. 

Meeting on the summit, a party of Americans, we 
changed our plan, aud concluded to go into the vale 
of Chamounix with them, by the pass Tete Noire, 
instead of the Col de Balme. 'Now we are all on our 
way descending. To the left, we get the first near 
view of a glacier — the Glacier du Trient. We are so 
near that the whole process of formation is apparent; 
from the soft snow as it falls high on the summit, to 
the banks wind driven below; to the rifts sinking 
with accumulated weight still lower; to the densely 
packed great snow waves pushed onward by the slide 
yet lower; to the breaks or crevasses in the advancing 
mass, checked on the bottom and sides by projecting 
rocks, where the sncnu now begins to be made ice, by 



Sivitzerland mid the Aljos. 227 

the dense thrust of the yast descending mass; and 
still lower, where the ice — at first milky and snow- 
like — becomes green and crystal; and last of all, 
where the descending mass drawn by gravity below, 
and pushed by resistless weight above, down the steep 
rocky gorge below the line of constant congelation, 
begins to melt, and the waters released by the sun 
from their icy chains, ooze, and trickle, and run, and 
at last break into a headlong and roaring rush down the 
valley, — the head spring of some riA^er, thus kept ever 
flowing, and ever full. 

Nothing can exceed the wildness of this pass, as we 
descend. Sometimes we look down a sheer fifteen 
hundred feet, to the rushing stream; sometimes we 
pass around jutting rocks, our path cut as a long 
wrinkle in their frowning brows, — once, we pierce a 
huge mountain buttress in our way by a tunnel ; and 
high above us on either side, are the weird, wild, 
thunder-scarred granite peaks, pointed as needles, 
piercing the heavens. Stopping for dinner at the 
Hotel de Tete Noire, we buy some curiosities, and are 
again descending. I had been walking some distance, 
and motioniug to my '^geede^^ to bring my horse, I 
mounted a point of sharp rock by the road side some 
three and a half feet high, and standing on the ball 
of my left foot, sought to throw my right leg over the 
high knapsack strapped to the steep saddle-back. 
Failing to get my leg high enough it struck, and 
losing my balance, I swung round to the left and fell 



228 Switzerland and the Alps. 

broadside^ back downward, directly in front of my 
horse, who started back, or he Avould liave trodden on 
me. My fall was almost wholly on my right hip, and 
it spent its force jnst where the note book in my 
pocket furnished a shield from the stony ground. I 
was bruised, but in no wise strained, or permanently 
hurt; a remarkable escape from severe injury, for 
which I trust, I felt truly grateful. 

Lower down, the same day, I had another escape, 
narrower than the first. I was riding ahead of the 
party. My horse — a very stupid and obstinate beast — 
had great blinders on his bridle, as is the usage here. 
His right blinder, I had noticed, through a twist in 
the leather, shut close over his eye. Suddenly, his 
horseship started as if shot, frantic with fright at a 
simple rock on the left of the path, and heedless of 
everything but his own silly terror, wheeled swiftly to 
the right, and not seeing the edge of the path there, 
came within a hair's breadth of throwing himself 
over; — shrinking back, only at the very verge, when 
he was round far enough to see where he was 
with the other eye. Had he gone off, he and I would 
have rolled over and under each other some twenty 

feet on sharp rocks into the stream below. W 

now comes to my aid; and I take his mule, — by far 
the better Jiorse of the two, — and yet, when we came 
to the steep descent into the valley, though lame from 
my fall, I walked, preferring my feet to those even of 
the faithful mule. 



Sivitzerla7id and the Aljjs. 229 

We now catch our first view of Mont Blanc — less 
imposing than subsequent views, save the vastness of 
its great reaches of stainless snow. The sun is now 
setting as we enter the upper part of the vale of Cha- 
mounix. We are hidden in the shade of the moun- 
tains ; but high above us on our left, lifted to a 
dreamy height, is the Aiguille Argentiere, gleaming 
with the golden light of the setting sun. That was a 
sight never to be forgotten. The yellow radiance Avas 
lustrous as that of the full harvest moon. Every but- 
tress and pinnacle of that castellated peak glowed as 
though veritable gold ; and there, fixed in memory, 
in its transcendent height, it to me, is gleaming still. 
But night falls on us, and we have yet a weary two 
hours ride. Fatigue and deep twilight enforce silence, 
as we wear away the slow moments, until finally the 
cheering lights and souuds of the village of Cha- 
mounix are near. Soon, we are at our Hotel des Alps, 
and while eating supper, we hear cannon fired in honor 
of the return of a party which had just made the 
ascent of Mont Blanc. 



CHAPTER XXI 



SWITZERLAND A^^D THE ALPS. 



Mont Blanc— Deceptive Impressions as to its Height as seen 
from its Base. Montanvert— Numbers there— Exciting Inci- 
dent and Alarm. Mer de Glace. The Grinding of the Glacier — 
The Debris— Daily Movement of the Ice. .Chasms. Moraines. 
Mauvais Pas. Hanging Patches of Grass. Swiss Girl Carry- 
ing Hay down the Mountain. Our Descent. Aiguille Du Dru. 
On the Diligence for Geneva. Glacier des Bossons. View 
Described by Coleridge. Grands Mulets. Wild Gorge of Cha- 
mounix. Sallanches. Final View of Mont Blanc. Its Sur- 
passing Grandeur. Cascade of Arpenaz. Villages. Goitre. 
Geneva. 

Sej^temher 15. — Our room looks out toward Mont 
Blanc, which lifts its head directly above us. We are 
up early to catch the first gleam of the rising sun, as 
it strikes the summit, long before it is sunrise in the 
yalley. There are no clouds to hinder the view, and 
we get the earliest blush on the mountain top. But 
the view is strangely deceptive. It impresses only as 
a pleasing sun smile ; we get little idea of its actual 
inherent grandeur. The summit seems so near, you 
fancy that a rifle of but moderate range would throw 
a ball to the very top. There is a flat roof of an out 



Switzerlcmd and the Alps. 231 

house accessible from our window, and W has 

taken a chair and small table thither from our room, 
and now, with my telescope is taking long looks at 
the great snow height, and sweeping down the front 
as far as he can get an unobstructed view. He sees 
now clearly defined, the great rocks and snow fields — 
the long ridges of wind driyen banks, and ranges of 
snow clifi's as lower masses have slid down from 
higher ; yet still there is no overpowering impression 
from the great mountain monarch. 

We breakfast, and with two mules, a guide and boy 
who speak only French, we are started for our day's 
excursion to Montanvert, and thence across the Mer 
de Glace. We soon leave the vale of Chamounix to 
our left and begin to mount up — ever winding and 
returning in our zig-zag course on the mountaiu side. 
After climbing some three hours, w^e reach the little 
eating house at Montanvert, where we dismount. Our 
boy is to take our mules back to the valley, and going 
around the foot of the glacier, is to ascend with them 
and meet us on the opposite mountain ; and we are to 
cross on the ice. 

We find many here on a like errand. Americans, 
Englishmen, Frenchmen, and Germans, — men and 
women, alike devotees in this home of the grand and 
awful. We sit awdiile on the moss-covered rocks 
above the building, to rest, and enjoy the views and 
warm sunshine. We have left Mont Blanc in the 
rear to our right. There is a summit high above us, 



232 Sivitzerland and the Alps. 

which looks easily accessible, and you think if once 
there, that Mont Blanc wonld tower grandly in yiew. 

W starts to climb it. He pushes vigorously up. 

I decline the tug, thinking it may be deceptive, and 
choose to loiter below, and look through my pocket 
microscope at the many hued lichen on the rocks, 
and talk with the strangers, who by a common pur- 
pose are made easily accessible. Before long I hear 

W shouting from the height. He had previously 

motioned to me not to follow, as, reaching what 
seemed the top, he saw nothing but peaks ever higher 
mounting above him. But now he shouts, "Father! 
I want the guide." I had previously sought the 
guide for another pur2:)ose, among the crowd of his 
jabbering fellows who were eating and drinking 
below, and had not been able to identify him ; and 

thinking W only wanted him to ask the names 

of the peaks he saw, I shouted in reply that I could 
not find the guide. But instantly, and repeated, 
there comes back the shout, made faint by the dis- 
tance, " I want the guide. Father ! I want the guide. 
Send up the guide." A flash of alarm now seizes me. 
Has the child slipped and caught on some shelving 
rock? Is he holding on wearily and wanting help? 
Is he hurt by a fall ? And now mingled with the 
call for the guide I fancy that I hear him say, " Send 
up some whisky." This confirmed my fears, and 
now, thoroughly terrified, I rush down for the guide, 
whom through the good ofiices of our boy, I found. 



SiDitzerland and the Alps. 2S3 

I then borrow a long Alpen stock from a gentleman 
present, and I send the guide in all haste up the 
mountain side, I following, hot and nearly breathless 
from haste which my fears — at times rising to terror — 
had impelled. " Is this to be the sad sequel of our 
long journeyings ? " said my busy throbbing heart. 
" Is my son to be injured — perhaps fatall}^ — on these 
precipitous rocks ? " And so, I trembled and rushed 

upward, until arrested by W shouting, "Don't 

you come up," and replying to my questions as I got 
nearer, "I am not hurt;" when content and thankful 
to wait the issue, I sat down where I was, until the 
guide, winding round and round many a projecting 

rock, at last reached W and slowly helped him 

down. It turned out that W in attempting to 

come down had found the precipices in his path so 
bewildering that he lost all trace of the way he got 
into the maze ; and fearing that he should make mat- 
ters still worse, had called so yigorously for the guide. 
I was glad he had called, gladder and deeply thankful 
that no harm resulted, — but by no means glad, (as 

W was,) that he went up ; for it cost me a fright 

and sweat and breathless tug up the mountain, and a 
tremulous thumping of heart throbs, which make me 
shudder even now. I had wholly mistaken as to the 
alarming call for whisky, which I had fancied that he 

needed to preyent fainting. W had made no such 

call; and he still insists upon his greater wisdom in 
the whole affair ; first, that it was wise to climb up ; 

1 6 



Siuitzerland and the Alps. 

and then wiser to call for the guide — in fact rare 
prudence, for which he merits no ordinary degree of 
credit. "We have to waive the question as an open 
one, between his love of daring — which I sometimes; 
fear is rashness, — and my excessive caution, which 
he thinks is sometimes morbid. 

We now go down to cross the great glacier. Our 
path to the edge of the ice, is steej) over the rough 
and crumbled debris of the grinding glacier, when it 
was hundreds of feet higher than now. We see as 
we go down, that the granite mountain side has been 
scraped, planed, grooved, and torn, at intervals: We 
strike the ice, which in a still vast frozen stream is. 
ever pushed onward with resistless power, moving in 
the center some twenty- three inches each day. It is 
broken into long yawning chasms, or crevasses, by the 
thrust and wrench. W^e find, however, no difficulty 
in safely crossing with care. Our shoes are shod with 
iron points to prevent slipping, and with our pointed 
staff, we pick our way, following the guide. Little 
flags are stuck into the ice at intervals, to show the 
best line of crossing. We pass many surface streams 
of running water, and some abysmal holes, into 
which the water rushes, falling with a cavernous 
sound. To those, we gave a wide berth. The oppo- 
site side of the glacier is far more difficult. The 
lateral moraine here, in any other place, would be 
called mountainous. It is formed of shattered granite 
rocks piled like broken stone upon each other. 



8ivitzerland and the Alps. 235 

mingled witli ice, and oozing sands, as the sun thaws 
the beaten track. 

At last, we strike the real mountain side beyond 
the moraine, and passing some beautiful cascades 
which come leaping down from dizzy heights, we 
enter upon the Mauvais Pas, where the path is cut out 
of the solid rock around a bold mountain side, and a 
rail of iron is fastened in the stone, to enable one to 

hold on. Ladies cross here eyery day. W insists 

that it is not at all dangerous. I can only say that 
nothing can be easier, and nothing more fatal, than a 
single misstep, should one make but a slip, and fail to 
catch the iron rod strung along the face of the 
precipice. 

We see as we pass, high up on the apparently inac- 
cessible mountain slope, green patches of slant pasture. 
Fires are burning there high oyer our heads. Who 
started those fires ? They are started by tlie moun- 
taineers, who cut grass on those hanging decliyities, 
and who annually burn them oyer after cutting, to 
enrich and soften the scant soil with ashes. Farther 
on, we see a woman coming down the mountain. She 
has two huge bags of hay poised deftly on her head, 
and with cautious and measured step she winds along 
on the steep descent. Coming nearer, we see that she 
is young, with a fair, flushed face nearly hidden under 
her great burden, and a firm, muscular tread as she 
carefully but fearlessly places foot below foot, and 



Sivitzerland and tJie AljJS. 

goes by us down the mountain. Thus the Swiss har- 
yest these granite slopes. Thus by the summer's toil, 
and hazards, they prepare for winter in their solitary 
homes. We slowly descend. Meeting our mules, we 
mount, and still go down. Steep and winding, stony 
and narrow is our path. Sometimes the mules have 
to step down over large stones, a sheer foot, on the 

brow of a dizzy height. W clings to the saddle, 

but I, though fagged, prefer trusting my own legs, 
and I jog on, getting foot sore from nails in my boots. 
At last we are down, back to our hotel, the nails 
pulled out of our boots, and we refreshed by dinner. 
We have had a weary but most instructive day. I had 
almost forgotten to mention the most commanding 
and glorious sight of the whole day — the peak of the 
Aiguille du Dru. This is a gigantic pinnacle of riven 
granite, lifted from its base near the great glacier, by 
a sheer rise of thousands of feet, like some amazing 
cathedral tower and spire, — buttressed at the base, and 
on its ever rising lines, as by a gothic builder — 
streaming up with faultless proportions into a soaring- 
shaft and needle-pointed spire above the clouds, which 
wreath it at intervals below the summit, and piercing 
far, far into what Chalmers called, the "blue of yon 
innocent and peaceful heaven." Again, and again, 
was my gaze drawn as by a magnet to this wonderful 
work of the Great Sculptor of the Alps. Sublime 
serene and solemn — may its memory ever lift my soul 
heavenward. 



Siuitzerland and the Alps. 237 

Sejotemher 16. — At 7:30 we are mounted on the 
diligence, for Geneva; drii^en by our rapidly waning 
days before sailing, to enter upon our westward 
course. And now, as taking leave of Mont Blanc, 
we are eager for last views. We ride down the valley 
near the turbid rushing stream. Soon coming directly 
abreast of the great mountain, we get the view which 
doubtless Coleridge saw, when he wrote the "Hymn 
in the vale of Chamouni." In front is the swift tor- 
rent of the Arve — then a green reach of rising meadow 
— then the rougher foot hills — then the great "ice 
falls'' of the Glacier des Bossons, streaming high up the 
mountain side, bordered by dark forests of spruce (not 
pine) — then the serrated and scarred peaks of the 
Grands Mulcts — and towering over all the vast, 
steep, ever lifting expanse of everlasting snow. Our 
ride down the valley is full of wild beauty, but at 
Sallanches, twelve miles from Chamounix, we take 
our final and most memorable view of the great Mon- 
arch of the Alps. The day is perfect. Now, looking 
back, we see the wild gorge of Chamounix — then the 
lower mountain range with peaks lofty as our Mount 
Washington — then the mighty form of Mont Blanc 
girded with clouds — and lifted far above them, is seen 
clearly defined in the very depths of the mid heaven 
the one gleaming stainless imperial summit. All 
doubt as to the resistless power of the " Sovran 
Blanc," noAV vanishes ; for the eye can hardly trust 
its own vision, and thought itself is strained and 



Bivitzerland and the Alps. 

weary, as it mounts higher and ever higher till it rests 
on that far, still, solemn, ethereal throne of white, 
which well may challenge the world's worship of its 
Maker. Let us take leave of the Alps, with the closing 
lines of tlie hymn of Coleridge : 

" Rise, O ever rise ! 



Rise lilie a cloud of incense, from the earth ! 
Thou kingly Spirit throned among the hills, 
Thou dread ambassador from earth to heaven, 
Great Hierarch ! tell thou the silent sky. 
And tell the stars, and tell yon rising sun, 
Earth, vpith her thousand voices, praises God." 

Some miles further on, is the beautiful cascade of 
Arpenaz. The rocky strata of the sheer cliff from 
which it leaps, are singularly contorted in loaving 
lines, showing that when in a plastic state, they had 
been bent in undulating curves. We pass several 
villages, in which nearly all the women seen — and 
sometimes men — have the dreadful goitred neck. At 
evening we reach Geneva, and find cheerful rooms in 
our Hotel Beau Eivage, and more letters from home. 



CHAPTEE XXII 



GEKEYA TO PARIS. 



Geneva. Cathedral where Calvin Preached. Service. Calvin's 
House. Scotch Church. Watch-making. Hotel de Ville. 
Night Train through France. Chalk. Pollards. Husbandry. 
Paris. Versailles, Le Grand Trianon. Josephine. Le Petite 
Trianon. Maria Antoinette. State Coaches. Soldiers. The 
Palace — Grounds— Fountains— Statues. Ruins in Paris. Place 
de la Concorde. Paris at Night. Champs Elysees. Demoral- 
ization. Beauty of Buildings. Tuileries — Louvre — Ruins. 
Galleries of Statuary — Paintings. Notre Dame. Morgue. 
Arc de Triomphe. Start for Home. 

Sundaij, Se'ptem'ber 17. — Beautiful day — in this 
most beautiful and interesting city. I caiiDot dwell 
upon details here. In the morning we attended the 
cathedral, where Calvin preached. The interior is 
stone, from floor to ceiling — style, beautiful Eoman- 
esque, with naye, transepts, east end in apse, and the 
monks' and nuns' walk below the clerestory. The 

sermon was in French. W understood enough 

to gather that it savored of the political. The 
preacher seemed earnest, especially in extempore 
prayer. The congregation was quite large. We met 



Geneva to Paris. 



there Eev. Dr. K , of New York, and went with 

him after service to see the house where Calvin lived, 
and died. This house is now occupied by the nuns 
of some Eomish establishment. Such are earthly 
transitions. Afterward we attended an English ser- 
vice in the Scotch Mission Church. The preacher — 
W. C. S. Jamieson, of Glasgow, — made an opening- 
prayer which, with my feelings awed and solemnized 
by the Creator's works we had just seen, seemed to me 
the most reverent, devout, and fitting utterance of 
adoration — mainly in an appreciative selection of 
David's words — which I had ever heard. The sermon 
was good, but too studied, and was forceless so far as 
reaching with effect the sparse congregation. It was 
grateful however to hear English ; and none the less- 
so because of the Scotch accent. In the evening we 
attended an Episcopal Mission Church. Was very 
dull and sleepy, and was aroused neither by the 
service or sermon, to any appreciative animation. 

September 18. — Spent the day till afternoon, in 
some purchases and sight seeing in this historic city. 
We were shown through the works of the great watch- 
makers, Pattek, Philipe & Co. We saw the whole 
process, — had explained to us the mysteries of stem- 
winding and regulating- — and saw much beside, 
instructive and curious. The old Hotel de Ville in 
Geneva, and the Arsenal were visited. In the former, 
we saw the curious winding paved stairway by which 



Geneva to Paris. 2JfI 

the old Cyndics used to mount to the fourth story on 
horseback. 

At 3:30 we took the train for Paris ; spending the 
night in the cars. As we rush through France, there 
is nothing specially noticeable. The country at times 
is much broken. Toward Paris there are large dis- 
tricts of chalk formation like that around London. 
The vineyards are constant; the vines planted very 
near each other, and kept trimmed to low stakes, not 
over six feet high. There are long ranges of Lom- 
bardy poplars, kept cut as pollards, for the fuel the 
shoots furnish, which give an impoverished and 
blighted look to the landscape. At times, these pol- 
lards, — weary of pushing up against the oft repeated 
clipping, — strike out horizontally, and assume fantas- 
tic forms of tree growth, interesting only as monstros- 
ities. The husbandry does not impress one as of high 
grade. The farm cottages are rarely tasteful, and are 
very often slovenly. Not so much of the perpetual 
love of flowers, as was seen beside the humblest dwell- 
ing of the Dutch, and Swiss, and English. 

But we are in Paris at early morning. We get by 
a squeeze tardily through the custom house search, 
and are permitted to go with our luggage unscathed 
to the Grand Hotel de Normandie ; a home Norman 
enough, but, though quite comfortable, without a 
single element of the "grand." We wash and eat; 
and, as we must "do Paris" in a few hours, we engage 
an interpreter, and coupee, and start on our round. 



2Jf.2 Geneva to Par in. 

After a brief ride along the Eue de Eivoli, and some 
glimpses at buildings and places, to wliicli I will refer 
afterward, we stop at a depot and take the rail for 
Versailles. Keaching there we at once yisit the great 
Palace upon which Louis XIV., {Le Grand Monarque, 
as the frivolous French called him,) expended the 
treasure of the nation so prodigally, that distress 
ensued, so widely felt and stringent as to be a main 
cause in the view of historians, of the great and 
terrible Ee volution. The hall where the present 
Versailles Assembly sits, the Palace itself, and the 
gorgeous chapel, we could not enter, being at present 
closed to visitors. 

After riding through a long avenue of clipped 
elms, we enter Le Grand Trianon. This was a 
favorite residence of the great Napoleon and Jose- 
phine. We saw the Council room, called Eoom 
of Mirrors, where his councils were often held. We 
saw Josephine's bedroom, bed, furniture, clock, and 
paintings, as she left them. We saw Napoleon's bed- 
room, and private reception room, with the paintings 
^nd furniture as when he used them. The paintings 
are many of them by old masters, and of rare beauty, 
but many are of questionable taste ; a remark strik- 
ingly true of the pictures in all French, and of most 
foreign galleries. We next visited Le Petite Trianon — 
the favorite residence of the ill-fated Marie Antoinette. 
Here we saw the grounds, mainly in forest, with a 
Swiss Chalet, mimic lakes, sequestered drives, and 



Geneva to Paris. 2Jf.S 

towering old trees, where she loved to linger. Behind 
the Chalet is a bit of soft green lawn, beneath lofty 
shade, where man}^ a giddy dance was had by queen 
and maids of honor and titled lords, devoted to the 
ceaseless pleasure seeking regnant in French society ; 
but all unconscious of the awfully tragic savageness 
ever slumbering there, by which when roused, they 
soon were overwhelmed and butchered. 

We next entered the royal coach house, and saw 
the heavily gilded and splendid state coaches of 
Louis XVI., of Napoleon I., and II., and of Josephine. 
These, though of enormous weight are truly regal — 
beautiful in proportion, and most glowing and costly 
in all luxurious adornment. There is a sad interest 
investing the coach which IS'apoleon gave to Josephine, 
in which when a wife divorced, she rode with a blighted 
heart to Malmaison; and which since that memorable 
and melancholy errand, has not been used. 

All around these grounds in the long avenues, there 
are encampments of the soldiers of the present Ver- 
sailles Assembly, held in arms ready to grapple on the 
instant with the tiger and hyena, which, with hardly 
a moment's warning, may threaten again to make 
Paris red with the blood other own ravening inmates. 
Returning, we look at the great fountains of Le 
Or and Monarqiie — the numberless bronze and marble 
statues — the wonderful facades of the vast Trianon, 
constituting the palace, loaded everywhere with the 
most costly and lavish ornament — a very wilderness 



^J^^Jf. Geneva to Paris. 

of art wrought into every form of grace and beauty. 
We see the varied walks — the flower beds — the lawns — 
the clipped yew trees cut into fantastic shapes — the 
orange trees — the vistas of green avenue — and the 
vast plateaus, reached by marble stairways so spacious 
that an army could ascend them in battalions. 

But time urging, we mount the omnibus to take 
an outside ride of some twelve miles to Paris, com- 
manding on our way wide views of the environs, and 
of the city, better thus seen than from a railway car. 
Reaching the city wall we go through one of the 
theatres of the fiercest encounter between the Com- 
munists and the Versaillists. Paris here is torn and 
ravaged on every side ; we see long ranges of buildings 
utterly demolished. Destruction has run wildly riot, 
sparing nothing. 

We return to our hotel, for a late dinner. In the 
evening, though weary, we walk to the Place de la 
Concorde, and the Champs Elysees, to see Paris by gas 
light, in her frenzy of pleasure seeking, but little 
abated by her awful ruin and sorrow. I will not 
describe the utter abandonment to the most seductive 
yet flattering sensuous indulgence, which seems, even 
now, to characterize the dwellers in this city, which 
like Sodom, and Babylon, and Eome of old, has played 
the harlot among the nations. In the groves of the 
Champs Elysees, open theatres are fitted up with 
dazzling lights, to attract the crowds to enter without 
charge, and hear songs and see ballet dancing by 



Geneva to Paris. 

girls ; the profits on drinks and refresliments which 
are expected to be ordered, being relied upon as 
remuneration for the spectacular entertainment. I 
looked through the doorway of two of these most 
seductive lures to vice, without entering ; and with a 
musing saddened heart and weary frame I returned 

early to my hotel and went to bed. W returned 

soon after, expressing loathing and wonder at the 
attrocious profligacy of this city, amid the ghastly 
ruins which humble it in the sight of the whole 
world. 

Sej)temher 20. — We start early this moruing with 
our interpreter, to make the most of our only remain- 
ing day. Paris, even in ruins, is the most beautiful 
city beyond approach which we have seen. This is 
due largely to the building material. It is a chalk 
sandstone, obtained in this region in exhaustless quan- 
tities, of a light soft cream color, and when first 
c[uarried, as easily cut and sculptured almost as wood, 
but hardening on exposure so as to become finely 
durable. The prevailing style of building is Grecian, 
in some instances with modifications in the direction 
of the modern Norman, and Italian ; but presenting 
in great variety, miles of facades, where grace, majesty, 
and beauty are made permanent in stone. London 
has a world of Grecian in her structures ; but they 
are all stiff, lumbering and sombre, as compared with 



2Jt.6 Geneva to Paris. 

the facile lines, the rich entablatures, the copious but 
neyer over-laden ornament of the Paris fronts. Paris 
too is wondrously clean. The Seine has margins 
throughout the city, as void of oifensiye sights and 
smells as the river borders in a rural region ; and the 
frequent bridges are as grand, massive, yet airy and 
elegant, as the labor and art of man can build. 

Our first visit in the forenoon is to the Tuileries 
and the Louvre. The Palace of the Tuileries and a 
great part of the new Louvre are utterly in ruins. The 
walls are standing, showing how grand, and rich, and 
graceful they were; but they are now shattered shells, 
the whole interior being destroyed by the petroleum 
and fires of the frenzied Communists. Where the em- 
peror held proud fetes, and gave to the adjulant world 
receptions, — where Eugenie amid her thronging and 
painted maidens, was regnant as the world's queen of 
beauty and fashion, there is nothing now but bewilder- 
ing desolation, — the imperial occupants now fugitives, 
and powerless. ^ or was it an enemy that has done this. 
This is no work of the Prussian " brutes around 
Paris," so stigmatized throughout our country by our 
brilliant, but too often misleading Philips, — but Paris 
herself has preyed upon her own vitals ; the ravening 
moral cancers within her have stricken in deadly 
blight to her very heart. Will the world profit by 
this awful lesson ? Especially will our American sons 
and daughters heed it, who fast becoming demoralized 



Geneva to Paris. 2Jf[' 

by French seductions, were beginning to regard 
Paris as supreme in culture ? I trust that the solemn 
warning has been, and will be, duly felt. The 
Eeign of Terror in the last century, for a time sus- 
pended the world's adulation of France and Paris. 
May the reneived terror of the recent attrocities suita- 
bly impress the nations with the inevitable retribution 
which, sooner or later, must overtake a people given 
up to profligacy and sin. 

We visited the galleries of statuary and paintin.ofs 
in the old Louvre now open. Our glance was of 
necessity rapid, and gave no opportunity for special 
study. The general impression was of a Avondrous 
beauty ; but a beauty unreservedly unchastened and 
sensuous. We visited the church of St. Germain 
TAuxerrois, a short distance from the Louvre, from 
the towers of which the tocsin was sounded for the 
commencement of the unutterably attrocious massacre 
of St. Bartholemew. We saw the corridor of the 
Louvre from one of the windows of which the infatu- 
ated king then reigning, himself fired at the crowd 
being butchered in the streets. We visited Notre 
Dame, and ascended the tower, which gave us a far- 
reaching view of Paris. From this tower, we saw on 
one of the river quays not far off, the ascending smoke 
of a great conflagration. Everything in Paris is so 
volcanic, that it was only natural that W , think- 
ing that the fire might be incendiary, — not knowing 



2Ji8 Geneva to Paris. 

what miglit happen in such a population — should 
think it safer for us to hurry down, lest some mine 
under the old church should be exploded. Just before 
ascending the tower, we had seen within the great 
nave, the place where the Communists had set on fire 
quantities of petrolium, and had lighted a train 
which led to powder barrels concealed under the 
altar, which were discoyered just in time to save the 
building. I was not alarmed, deeming the fire acci- 
dental, as it turned out to be — being the burning of 
the contents of a great wine depot. Afterward we 
visited the Morgue, where the bodies of the suicides, 
and murdered, and of those drowned in the Seine, are 
exposed to public view for identification. Two bodies 
were there when we went in. One had been long in 
the water before discovery ; the other, a man with a 
blow on the forehead, and the maudlin look of 
drunken debauch still on his face. We spent the 
remainder of our time in a drive through the Boule- 
vards to the Arc de Triomphe, witnessing on every 
hand the wide spread destruction by the Communists, 
At evening we took the train for Calais, arriving 
at midnight. Again we were highly favored by a 
smooth crossing of the Channel to Dover, where, 
again on English soil, we took the train for London, 
arriving in the early morning. I was quite amused 
at my own simplicity, as, while waiting at the depot 
for a discharge by the custom officer, I looked up at 



Geneva to Paris. 2Jf9 

an adyertisement posted on the wall, and was amazed 
for a moment to find that it was in language I under- 
stood. 

September 21 and 22 were spent in London, pur- 
chasing, and packing for our final start. On the 
evening of the latter we left for Liverpool, which we 
reached safely in a few hours, and found excellent 
rooms at the North Western Hotel. 



17 



OHAPTEE XXIII. 



LIVEEPOOL TO KEW YORK. 



Embarking for home. Steamer Java. Passengers. Queenstown. 
Bishop of Litchfield. Wm. H. Seward. Conversation vrith 
him. Interesting lieference to Surrender of Mason and Sli- 
dell. Loss of a Danish Brig. Tyndall's " Hours of Exercise in 
the Alps." Favorable Passage. Arrival in New York. 

September 23. — Beautiful morning. Busy with pre- 
parations for sailing. Stepping into a book store in 
Liverpool I purchased for reading on ship board, 
" Hours of Exercise in the Alps/' by Professor Tyndall, 
and the " Witness of History to Christ/' by Farrar. 
We had then, a little opportunity to see Liverpool ; 
deriving from it however, only a very general and 
cursory impression, I will note nothing in detail. 
Had an hour of bustle and busy nothings on the 
wharf, disposing of baggage. There was much to 
amuse and interest one in observing the crowd of 
passenger's now brought together on the spacious 
wharf, as the hour for embarking drew near. Nearly 
all were strangers ; yet each was naturally desirous to 
learn what he could by observation of those who for 



Liverpool to New Yorh. 251 

ten days were to be placed in siicli intimate relation- * 
ship with himself in the voyage. The diversities of 
character and temperament written on the faces and 
expressed in the manner of those seen thus for the 
first time, were quite a study as revelations of their 
varied antecedents, as to occupation, culture and 
intelligence. I was struck especially with the face 
and expression of one gentleman, whom I met fre- 
quently as he passed about leisurely in the throng 
of passengers and porters; and while he was thus 
quietly reading others, it was easy to see in the ex- 
pression of his marked features and mien, a wide 
intelligence as to men and things, and an acute and 
practiced power of discrimination as to the character 
of others. All these were abundantly confirmed after- 
ward, when I came to know him as an eminent jurist. 

Judge T , of Boston. 

About 1 P. M., we left the wharf in a steam lighter 
for our good ship the Java, which lay at anchor in . 
the Mersey some two miles away. Coming near 
enough for distinct vision, we see that she lies low in 
the water — indicative of a full load. "We are soon on 
board, and we find our state-room — which we had 
some weeks before engaged in London from a diagram 
of the vessel — to be all as to position and convenience 
which we had anticipated. Passing up the cabin 
stairway, I heard my name called, and turning I found 

Rev. J. S. D , of Boston, a valued friend, who 

with his esteemed wife and niece, were like ourselves 



Liverpool to Neiv York, 

returning home. We find too that Wm. H. Seward 
and his party are on board, returning from their 
voyage around the world. 

Our steamer is soon under way, and we rapidly pass 
the long line of docks, which distinguish Liverpool. 
Passing out into the Channel we come ere long in 
sight of the distant Snowdon range of mountains in 
Wales, on our left ; and on our right, of the more 
distant highlands in the Isle of Man. Grradually 
these fade in the twilight as the night draws on. We 
note the tremor of our great ship as she feels the power 
of the screw whirling deep in the water at the" stern. 
The masts and long spars shudder at each revolution. 
These are but an earnest of the nearly countless throes 
of the mighty power which is to speed us on our way 
across the wide Atlantic. 

Sunday, September 2J^.. — A glorious morning. About 
9 o'clock we enter the spacious harbor of Queenstown, 
and learn that we are to lie here till 4 in the after- 
noon, awaiting the arrival of the " Great Irish Mail," 
which, leaving London at midnight yesterday, has 
been sent by the North Western Eailway to Wales, 
and thence crossing to Dublin, is to come down 
through Ireland to meet us here. Nothing can exceed 
the beauty of the scene around us as we lie in this 
magnificent bay ; yet we regret the loss of the hours 
in which we might have made fine headway on our 
voyage. But the claims of the national mail are 



Liverpool to New York. 253 

regnant, and nothing remains for ns but quiet acqui- 
escence. About 11 o'clock the ship's bell calls us to 
the dining saloon, for religious services. The Lord 
Bishop of Litchfield (Henry Augustus Melville) offi- 
ciated, and preached. The service and sermon were 
refreshing and grateful to all ; reverent, simple, fervent 
and natural. It was evident from the unpretentious 
sermon, which brought happily to our view the Fa- 
therhood of God, and the Gospel of Christ, that a true 
worshiper — though he be an English Lord Bishop — 
finds peace in God and joy in Christian faith, in 
precisely the same heart relations to our Father and 
Eedeemer that the humblest believer feels — for there 
is one Only l^ame, and but one Way, Truth, and 
Life, in which any can be saved. 

This service was a happy introduction of the Bishop 
to his fellow passengers. Accompanied by a number 
of Episcopal clergymen, he was on his way to attend 
a convention soon to be held in Baltimore. Knowing 
that he was to sail in the Java, Bishoj) Littlejohn 
of Long Island, had most kindly given to me in 
London a note of introduction to the Bishop of 
Litchfield. It was announced at this service that a 
meeting for prayer would be held each morning 
during the voyage in the Bishop's private cabin. 

At 4 o'clock, we see nearing us from Queenstown a 
sturdy steam tug, which is soon alongside. The great 
mail is now put on board, together with more passen- 
gers. A long weather-beaten Irishman also comes 



254 Liverpool to New Yorh. 

on board as pilot, and mounts the bridge to take 
command. The anchor is raised, and a strong hawser 
rnn out from the tug and attached to our forward 
capstan to wind the ship for her course. I got a 
powerful impression of the enormous inertia of our 
great steamer from the difficulty of this winding- 
process. The tug was a powerful one, and held by 
the strong haw&er, it exerted its full power at right 
angles with our ship, pulling directly at the bow, and 
yet, though there was no wind or wave to oppose, the 
tug with the utmost effort was a full half hour in 
drawing us around. Now headed t? the outlet, the 
mighty engine is started, our screw begins its throes, 
and the vast mass of our ship, yielding to a nearly 
resistless force, begins to rush on its way. The pilot, 
wishing our captain a prosperous voyage, soon leaves 
in his little boat which had been towing astern ; and 
we all rejoice in the movement and freedom as our 
ship heads toward the shoreless expanse on our home- 
ward way. 

SejJtemiei' 25. — Wind and weather greatly favor us. 
Our ship rolls some in the waves, and quite a number 
are affected by it. I am happily exempt, and begin 
to read with much zest, Tyndall's " Hours of Exercise 
in the Alps." 

Septemljer 26. — We are making capital speed. A 
fresh wind is so fair, that with our sails all set it comes 



Liverpool to Neiv York. 255 

grandly in aid of our engine, and we are sometimes 
running seventeen knots an hour. 

At 10 o'clock I attended prayers in the Bishop's 
cabin. Quite a number were present. It is most 
timely and meet to lift our hearts daily to Him who 
upholds all, as, out of sight of land, we are upborne 
on the waves of the deep. 

Septemher 27. — Weather still favorable, and our 
speed excellent. Spent the day in reading, conversa- 
tion, and exercise on deck. 

Sejdemher 28. — Beautiful day. I had this morn- 
ing a very interesting conversation with Governor 
Seward — one of the most remarkable, as well as most 
eminent men of the age. Though both of his arms 
are nearly helpless from paralysis, he has lost little of 
his natural activity, and is every day on deck for 
hours, when the weather will admit. His face is 
deeply scarred by the wounds inflicted by the assassin 
who attempted to take his life in Washington. He 
is easily approachable by all, and delightiug in con- 
versation, is ready to answer most instructively, the 
numerous questions asked relative to his recent travel 
in Japan, China, India, and other countries. A¥itli a 
profound conviclioFi that Governor Seward as an in- 
strument of Providence, had rendered in our great 
conflict inestimable service for his country, not only, 
but for the welfare of our race — service which perhaps 



2S6 Liver-pool to Wew York. 

no other man Hying could so effectively have ren- 
dered — it was grateful to me as an American citizen 
to have the opportunity of expressing my sense, in 
common with my countrymen, of personal obligation 
to one who had thus been a great public benefactor. 
In our conversation this morning, referring to the 
Trent affair, I spoke of the universal exultation with 
which the seizure of Mason and Slidell was hailed at 
the North, and almost without exception justified as 
sanctioned by national law. I then spoke of the 
marvelous acquiescence — nearly without dissent — of 
the public in the ground taken by him when Mason 
and Slidell were given up; and I expressed my con- 
viction that no other man under such circumstances, 
could have so adroitly and yet wisely influenced public 
sentiment in that trying emergency. This led to 
quite a detailed reference by him to that critical 
event in our great national struggle. He stated that 
the Trent seizure occurred at a marked juncture in 
our affairs, and that the North did not then know, 
what was well known to him, through his relation to 
our diplomacy, namely, that the leading European 
powers had distinctly notified our government that 
they would respect our blockade of the southern ports 
only so far as that blockade was made effective by the 
presence there of an adequate force. To maintain 
that blockade, seemed to him decisive of our contro- 
versy. If our southern ports were to be open for the 
unrestrained conveyance to the South of supplies from 



Liverpool to Neiv Yorh. 251 

:abroad, our cause would be greatly imperiled ; hence 
from the first he had been most solicitous that this 
blockade should be so maintained that foreign powers 
would be compelled to respect it. He said further, 
that a day or two after the seizure of Mason and 
Slidell;, and after the lower House of Congress had 
nearly unanimously adopted a resolution justifying 
and commending the act of Captain Wilkes, General 
McClelian called upon him, and put to him directly 
the question, "Are we to have war with England T ^ 
In reply, said Governor Seward, I said, " Why do you 
ask this question ?" " Because," said General Mc- 
Clelian, " if we are to have war with England I must 
know it, and without delay transfer the greater part 
of our forces now supporting the blockade, to northern 
cities — especially jS'ew York — for their defence." I 
was thus, said Mr. Seward, brought vividly to see that 
the immediate efiect of a rupture with England would 
be the virtual abandonment of our blockade; and 
this, with the material and moral advantages given to 
the South by the aid of England as an actual combat- 
tant, it seemed clear might be fatal. I felt too, con- 
tinued Mr. Seward, that while the seizure of Mason 
and Slidell might be justified as against England, on 
the ground of her own pretensions and precedents as 
to the right of search, yet it would virtually be a 
departure from the influence we had previously 
exerted as a nation in mitigation of the stringent 
rules of national law based upon the practices of 



258 Liver idool to New York. 

governments in which popular freedom had less sway 
than with us. In view then of the whole matter, as a 
statesman charged with great public trusts, I was not 
long in concluding that it was clearly my duty to do 
the utmost that could rightfully be done to avert a 
rupture with England. But in the Trent matter I 
had little active support in the Cabinet. President 
Lincoln, very soon in our discussions, assured me that 
he would support me to the full extent of his power 
should I deem it best to surrender Mason and Slidell. 
The other members of the Cabinet were reluctant to 
pledge support, but would only engage to not actively 
oppose ; while each remained in a position in which 
he could say — did the result prove adverse — '' I am 
in no wise responsible, as I never advised it." Thus, 
said Mr. Seward, aside from the President, I was con- 
strained to assume the responsibility in the surrender 
of Mason and Slidell. 

One cannot meet this veteran statesman, so often 
tried and found equal to every emergency in the 
most responsible positions, without a profound im- 
pression as to his wealth of cosmopolitan knowledge, 
his breadth of view, and his patriotic and exalted 
estimate of the influence and mission of America in 
the affairs of the world. His record, as to the success- 
ful cohduct of our government in its relations to 
foreign powers, during our struggle for existence 
among the nations, is reward, and will be fame enough 
to fill the aspirations of the world's ablest statesmen. 



Liverpool to New York. 259 

September 29. — We haye liad quite a stormy night. 
Our good ship rolled and pitched heayily, but behayed 
admirably, riding the billows with perfect ease of 
moyement, and without shudder from contact with 
the wayes. A dense fog toward morning, and for 
hours the steam whistle is used, and our engine 
checked to half speed. 

On the yoyage of the Jaya next before this, we 
are told by our Captain, that at midnight in the mid 
Atlantic, she ran down a Danish brig. The night 
was dark, and the brig showed no lights. The Jaya 
struck the brig broadside about midship and cut her 
completely in two. There were eleyen men on board, 
and only one was sayed. He was awaked from sleep 
by finding himself in the water, but catching some 
floating wood from the wreck he was picked up by 
the boats of the Jaya. What is yery remarkable is 
the fact that next morning many of the passengers 
of the Jaya knew nothing of the collision. Our 
Captain said that before the Jaya had crossed the 
brig as far as the line of our foremast, the brig was 
cloyen completely, and the fragments fell off on each 
side. The Jaya was uninjured, the pumps show- 
ing no water in the hold. We got from this sad 
encounter, a yiyid idea of the great strength and nearly 
resistless momentum of these yast iron steamers. 

We are now rapidly n earing the Great Banks. I 
am happy to be again able to record exemption from 



Liverpool to Neiv Yorh. 

seasickness ; W , though doing bravely, does not 

fare quite so well. 

September SO. — Sea now quite smooth. Last night 
by our Captain's reckoning, we were within thirty-six 
miles of Cape Eace. A little land bird this morning, 
doubtless from Nova Scotia, is flying near our ship. 

Octoler 1. — Sunday. Wind fair, and day beautiful. 
Divine service in the forenoon, the Bishop preaching. 

October 2. — We are now watching eagerly for a 
pilot. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon a pilot boat 
comes in sight and soon a pilot comes on board. We 
hail this as an assurance of the near close of our 
voyage. 

Have greatly enjoyed reading on ship board. Tyn- 
dall's " Hours of Exercise in the Alps" is a book full 
of striking and manly incidents, narrated in delight- 
ful English, with much incidental scientific instruc- 
tion. I am pained however, by the evidence in it of a 
subtle yet constant and obviously studied non-theism. 
The glories of the Alps, though described with glow- 
ing appreciation, can win from this scientist not even 
a remote recognition of the Creator. His conception 
LqQ of the Cosmos, is one confessedly tending to the mate- 
rialistic, and seems wholly to ignore a Sovereign and 
all subordinating Intelligence. Yet, confessions of 



pD- T9.* 



Liverpool to Neiv York. 261 

the barrenness of a system thus " alienated from the 
life of God/' are not wanting in the book, as his heart 
finds no response to its yearnings, in the realm of 
mere force, unconscious and unintelligent, though it 
be most mighty and sublime. Verily the mere Phy- 
sicist — however reluctant he may be to admit the 
Theistic in his conceptions of the universe — can not 
wholly repress the intuitions of his own spiritual 
nature, which in the presence of the creation, luill 
continually ask for the creator. 

October 3. — We arrive safely in New York harbor 
this morning. The dense fog detains us some hours 
off the quarantine ground. A steamer comes down 
from the city to take off Governor Seward and party, 
who leave us with our hearty rounds of cheers in 
honor of the great Publicist. 

, In the early forenoon, our noble steamer is warped 
up to its own landing, and the warm welcome of 
relatives and friends watching for our arrival, is a 
grateful earnest of the joys of home once more in our 
native land. 



^^^^' j^ \ ^yii"^^' . ^^ ^^ 







'yi%y.^ ^"-^ ■%• 






0^ 


' s 


°* 





.5^^ , 


'*,,< 
..^'^'' 


■^ 
^•^ 




»^^#^ 




m 



:41 



% 









